


Europa

by baeconandeggs



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Plot Twists, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6967528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is when Baekhyun smiles at Chanyeol without knowing it’s his second time meeting his husband for the first time. True love is when the world falls apart, but Chanyeol and Baekhyun put it back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Europa

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, huge thanks to all of the usual suspect; without each of you this fic would not have been possible. I'm forever grateful to the understanding mods for running this exchange and being so patient, the prompter for giving me this wonderful prompt, J for doing this with me, and especially to R for working out the finer points with me and being my biggest fan. This fic is unlike anything I've ever written before, but I hope that doesn't show too much;;; It took me a very long time before I was actually happy with this fic, and I truly believe it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to write... I hope everyone enjoys it and thank you for reading! \^^/

****

“Baekhyun, who do you think it’s harder for: the one leaving, or the one being left behind?”

****

Chanyeol doesn’t ask why this has happened to him. He doesn’t demand some great explanation from the universe. He doesn’t stay up late thinking about souls’ currency and the exchange rate of karma over lifetimes. 

Chanyeol knows that the frozen moon, Europa, takes 416,878 miles to orbit the barren deserts of Jupiter. 

And if half of Europa can wait in darkness for so long, then Chanyeol thinks he can wait in darkness, too. 

Because an ellipse may not have a beginning or end, but revolutions mean things repeat: things return. They come back. 

And Chanyeol knows. 

Chanyeol knows Baekhyun will come back, too.

****

“Start from the beginning.” 

Baekhyun frowns at the rings on the coffee table and wonders who left them and how. Were they from a cold bottle of water on a balmy summer day? Or maybe, super-heated residue left behind from a steaming cup of coffee. He flicks his coffee cup in annoyance. 

Two sugars, one cream. Coffee was never meant to be drunk bitter and black.

Dr. Kim stares back at him with understanding eyes and Baekhyun wants to scowl; what could Kim Joonmyun’s, qualified, Ivy League-bred, top of his class, best at his practice, certified psychiatrist and all-around Perfect Man understand about him? About this situation? 

Fancy degrees and a clipboard don’t certify Dr. Kim to do shit, in Baekhyun’s mind. 

Literally.

“I don’t remember,” Baekhyun finally replies, rolling his eyes a little. He’s irritated when Joonmyun’s kind expression doesn’t change. He’s not even fazed, and Baekhyun craves a reaction, the deafening applause and a one-hundred watt smile that dances just on the edge of his memory. He blinks, his own memory jogging his sense of uptight pride and his scowl falters for a moment. 

“That’s okay,” Dr. Kim replies soothingly, “These things take time.” 

“Actually, I do remember something,” Baekhyun replies, fingering his coffee cup. 

“Oh?” 

“This smile,” Baekhyun says slowly. The cup is porcelain and cracked. Baekhyun thinks a hotshot psychiatrist like Joonmyun should be able to afford better dinnerware for his patients. 

“What smile?” Joonmyun doesn’t write anything on his clipboard like the clichés all say he should. Baekhyun doesn’t respect it, but he thinks it’s a little funny. He thinks this whole thing is a little funny. And a little sad. 

“This smile... that I just can’t get out of my head.”

****

Baekhyun spends too many Saturday afternoons holed up on the second floor of the math building wondering why he didn’t join a fraternity like a normal college student. He frowns at the mistaken trigonometric identities scrawled across test papers in messy handwriting and strikes the whole question with vigor. Red ink bleeds onto his hands and he can’t help but find the whole thing oddly barbaric. 

When he had agreed to become a TA for Math 1011 as a favor to underclassman Oh Sehun who had fallen out of favor with the professor for sexting his boyfriend in class, he hadn’t expected it to voraciously eat his social life. 

He frowns at the stack of papers in front of him as Sehun exclaims in joy next to him. The Pokemon battle theme plays in the background. 

“Can you at least pretend like you’re working?” 

“I did, hyung,” Sehun replies crossly, placing his 3DS on the table and crossing his arms over his chest, “For the first like, thirty minutes? It’s been hours and I’m tired. I want to go home.” 

Baekhyun stares at him. “And what do you suggest we do with all these test papers? Throw them out the window?” 

Sehun’s face lights up with glee, “That’s a great idea hyu—”

“I was being sarcastic,” Baekhyun replies dryly, drawing another x on the paper in front of him. Another casualty in the great war on GPA. 

“Maybe we can flush them down the toilet and tell the professor the math building flooded...” is what Sehun is saying when the creaky door swings open to reveal a lanky student with too much teeth in his smile. 

“Oh, sorry,” the intruder says, almost tripping over his own feet to get through the door. Baekhyun stares at him, unimpressed. “Um,” he starts awkwardly, eyes flitting from Baekhyun to Sehun, to the stack of tests, to Baekhyun, to the reluctantly abandoned 3DS, and back to Baekhyun. “Is this room, uh, being used?” he finishes, realizing too late, that the statement is lame and the answer painfully obvious. 

Sehun winces when Baekhyun answers. “Obviously.” 

“O-oh,” the student replies nervously. “Uh, then I guess I’ll just—” In mid sentence, the student trips over what he’ll insist later was the doorframe, and not his own feet, and crashes loudly into the desk closest to the door. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Sehun exclaims, jumping to his feet. Baekhyun follows suit, rushing around to help him up. 

Though he had expected to see a crumpled, embarrassed mess, Baekhyun finds something different sitting on his ass next to the upturned desk. 

“You’re smiling,” Baekhyun says dumbly, as he holds out his hand without thinking in order to help him up. 

“Actually, my name is Park Chanyeol,” the boy smiles up at Baekhyun, “Sorry about your desk.” He takes Baekhyun’s hand and lets Baekhyun pull him to his feet. 

Standing next to Chanyeol, Baekhyun thinks Chanyeol’s too tall, and his shoulder hurts from pulling up Chanyeol’s fat ass. 

“Byun Baekhyun,” he replies as Chanyeol stares at him with this smile that makes Baekhyun’s skin crawl, “Sorry about your ass.” 

Belatedly, Baekhyun realizes they’re still holding hands and he quickly lets go, but Chanyeol keeps smiling at him; his fingers linger. 

“And I’m Oh Sehun, if anyone cares,” Sehun supplies. 

Chanyeol flashes him his one hundred watt smile and Baekhyun feels a weird hollow feeling in his chest that only lasts a millisecond, he swears. 

“Nice to meet you two.” 

Sehun gives him a thumbs up without looking up from his 3DS, “The pleasure’s all ours.” 

“Seriously, sorry about this freak accident though,” Chanyeol says, moving to sit the desk and chair back up. Baekhyun scrambles to help him because it’s less awkward than watching him, and Chanyeol seems plenty enough awkward on his own. 

“You’re fine,” Baekhyun says. They finish arranging the chairs, but Chanyeol doesn’t make any motion to leave. “Were you looking for a place to study or...?” Baekhyun lets the question hang in the air, not sure why this conversation is still going. Not even sure why he’s still talking.

“Oh, no, I was looking for a room for my club to meet,” Chanyeol says with another bright smile. Baekhyun wants to invest in sunglasses. 

Chanyeol rifles through his pockets and comes up with a flyer, which he hands to Baekhyun who scans it cursorily. 

“A band?” Baekhyun finally says flatly. 

“That is so cliché,” Sehun remarks from his seat. If Chanyeol hears him, he doesn’t comment. 

“I play guitar,” Chanyeol says brightly. 

“Do you sing, too? Hyung sings.” 

Baekhyun wants to throttle Sehun; so like, business as usual, to be honest. 

Chanyeol laughs, and Baekhyun hates it, because it’s so deep, it rattles his bones. “No, I don’t sing, just guitar. And piano. And bass. And drums. And djembe...” 

“Fuck, is that last one even real?” Sehun laughs and Chanyeol laughs along with him. 

“Yeah, I learned it on a mission trip senior year of high school.” But, as far as my band goes, I just play guitar. He looks at Baekhyun, eyes twinkling. “We kind of need a singer.” 

Baekhyun opens his mouth to respond, but it’s Sehun who answers. “That’s great, because Baekhyun kinda needs to get laid.” 

Baekhyun is about to cuss Sehun out, but his thoughts are drowned out by Chanyeols booming laughter. He claps Baekhyun hard on the back, and Baekhyun feels like a thunderstorm has just hit. The flashing smile is the lightning, the laughter the thunder. 

Chanyeol is a storm, Baekhyun decides that day. A storm without rain. 

Later, when Baekhyun tells Chanyeol about his conclusion from that day, Chanyeol laughs his same booming laugh. Lightning and thunder strike again. 

“Of course there’s rain, Baekhyun. You’re the rain. Without rain there is no storm, and without you, there is no me.”

****

“So, this is your band...?” 

Baekhyun isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting the answer to his question to be as he glances around the empty classroom. Save for Chanyeol and himself, the room is completely devoid of life, and Baekhyun has never been prone to pointing out the obvious. He shakes his head at himself, wondering why he even bothered to ask the question in the first place. Is he expecting people to pop out of the closets? Trapeze in through the windows? 

Baekhyun glances over at Chanyeol who is observing the whole ordeal with a rather complacent look. If the other band members are late, Chanyeol is taking it surprisingly well. And if the other band members don’t exist, well, then Chanyeol is taking that surprisingly well, too...

“This is the band room,” Chanyeol says with a smile, pushing Baekhyun into the room gently before moving past the petrified rocks and a strangely out-of-place cat skeleton (seriously, wasn’t this the geophysics building?) to stand in front of a silver MacBook Pro a few desks away. 

“This is my band,” Chanyeol announces proudly.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes as he stares at the strange display before him. Just what exactly had he gotten himself into? 

“So, uh, basically as of now, your band consists of you, and uh, your computer,” Baekhyun says the statement slowly, hoping Chanyeol will either a) stop him or b) realize how fucking weird this sounds and quickly amend the situation. Just acknowledging the weirdness of the situation would be enough for Baekhyun but no dice; Chanyeol continues to stare at Baekhyun with a wide grin and twinkling eyes. 

“No, of course not,” Chanyeol says gleefully as Baekhyun remains rooted to the spot in the doorway, trying to ignore Chanyeol’s magnetic pull into the room, and by extension, this insanity. “You’re here, too.” 

Baekhyun opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Chanyeol presses a key on his computer and a familiar techno beat with a light piano melody fills the room. Baekhyun closes his mouth somewhat dumbly and moves closer to Chanyeol and the laptop, ensnared like a sailor in a siren’s song. 

“Wait I know that song,” Baekhyun squints at the computer screen, trying to place the familiar tune. “It’s the theme for the morning campus radio show!” Baekhyun spins on Chanyeol, his eyes wide as saucers, “Did you remix that?” 

Chanyeol is grinning so intensely that his left eye is twitching. The whole thing would be comically hilarious if Baekhyun wasn’t so shocked and amazed. 

“Did it with the help of my band,” Chanyeol grins, “But, it would be great if it had some vocals.”

****

“Byun Baekhyun! Who knew you had a voice like that!” Sehun’s overenthusiastic boyfriend of four months, Kim Jongin, claps Baekhyun on the back with a greater amount of force than is perhaps socially acceptable, causing Baekhyun to choke on his 7-up and spit soda all over himself. 

“Hyung is fucking famous!” Sehun adds also clapping Baekhyun on the back as well, causing Baekhyun to cough and sputter again. “When I signed you up for that gig, who knew your voice would be broadcast campus wide every morning? Honestly, I’m like your agent or something. You should pay me.” 

“Fucking gremlins,” Baekhyun mutters, putting the soda down on the wooden table, and trying to brush the liquid off his sweater with little luck, “You both are fucking gremlins.” 

“Rather fuck a gremlin than a misshapen gargoyle,” Sehun replies while rolling his eyes and Baekhyun chokes again.

“Excuse me?” 

“So, you are fucking him?” Jongin asks leaning in closer to Baekhyun, who may possibly be drowning in 7-up and embarrassment at this point. 

Honestly, he’s still alive but he’s barely breathing.

“I—what? Who? What?” 

“Repeating the word ‘what’ just makes you seem even more suspicious, hyung.” 

“I actually have no idea what the two of you are talking about.” Baekhyun had no idea hanging out with two freshmen could be so hazardous to his health. Friendship with Oh Sehun and Kim Jongin should come with prepaid life insurance, or at least a brightly colored warning.

“We heard you came home after 2AM last Saturday, and that you had been on a date with Park Chanyeol.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen. “How did you know that?” 

“Hyung, you seem to have forgotten one very important thing in all of this,” Sehun says carefully, “Your roommate.”

****

Baekhyun leaves Joonmyun’s office at approximately a quarter after six. It’s raining and grey out and quite frankly, Baekhyun hates it. 

Regardless of his memory loss and various other cognitive issues brought about by a freak accident several months prior, Baekhyun’s never possessed the sort of foresight required to constantly have an umbrella on hand. He frowns down at his winter coat made of material almost too pricey for someone who never has an umbrella in a city where it always rains.

“Why did I buy this...?” he mutters, another question added to a long list of inquiries he’d like answered one day, preferably by his past self or maybe a deus ex machina descending from the sky. If only he could call his own past collect, free of charge. But for now, he has to settle for weekly sessions with cracked china and leather upholstery. 

So, he stands at the bus stop (uncovered of course, because an awning would just be too easy) and stares at the asphalt of the street, made shiny by the rain, and wonders how long he’ll have to live in this colorless world. He stands and he thinks, and he thinks and he stands, and he’s so caught up in thinking and standing and wondering and longing that all he knows is that a moment ago he was getting soaked to the bone, but now he’s not.

He glances around slowly only to see that he is not alone anymore. Next to him stands a man, too tall for Baekhyun’s liking, holding an umbrella to shield them both from the rain.

“Um, hi?” Baekhyun starts slowly, shifting nervously in place, wondering if he should awkwardly step out from under the umbrella or continue to stand there, sharing an umbrella with a complete stranger.

“Uh, hi,” the stranger replies. His voice is deeper than Baekhyun expected and it surprises Baekhyun when he speaks. But, what may surprise Baekhyun even more is that the stranger sounds equally awkward, almost nervous, and maybe even a little surprised. Baekhyun decides that if this stranger is indeed hitting on him, he’s doing an awful job and needs to take lessons in confidence acquisition. On the other hand, if the stranger is confused and believes Baekhyun to be someone else, well then....

Almost harshly, Baekhyun recalls a third possibility, and the prospective alternative makes his tongue feel like cotton in his mouth.

“Do I know you?” Baekhyun asks. He wonders if there’s an easier way to live the life of an amnesiac and why not remembering his life means he can simply just stop feeling, too. Why, if the mind has forgotten, must the body still remember the feel of a life once lived long, long ago?

The stranger blinks at him, but Baekhyun tries to look away. If he does know this man, if this man is some relic of his past—an enemy, a friend, someone important—he doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to look into those dark eyes and face the facts: that no amount of wishing and staring, and hoping and dreaming can bring his memories back. 

“No.” 

The answer sounds so finite, so simple, so devoid of resentment or pain that for a moment, Baekhyun’s heart lifts and he even believes it. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he finds himself looking up at a crooked smile with too much teeth and eyes that twinkle like stars.

“Sorry,” the man apologizes, shifting awkwardly, and Baekhyun notices for the first time that he’s hunched over to hold the umbrella so that neither of them get wet, “You just looked really wet and cold. Like um, a stray dog?” The man laughs a loud booming laugh and Baekhyun finds himself smiling back. Under the umbrella, joy is contagious, laughter infectious, and Baekhyun can’t help but smile at this stranger in the rain.

“You’re smiling,” Baekhyun says dumbly, as a gust of wind nearly snatches the umbrella from the stranger’s grip. The wind ends up splashing them both in the face with cold rainwater, and they burst into laughter again.

“Actually, my name is Park Chanyeol,” the man grins widely, “And you are, too.” 

Standing next to Chanyeol, Baekhyun thinks he’s far too tall, and his shoulder aches dully from being smooshed under a small umbrella next to Chanyeol’s gangly limbs.

“Byun Baekhyun,” Baekhyun replies as Chanyeol stares at him with this smile that makes Baekhyun’s skin tingle. “Sorry about this,” he motions to their predicament and Chanyeol laughs again.

“I guess I’m the one who made things awkward by suddenly appearing like that and not even saying anything,” Chanyeol says almost sheepishly 

Baekhyun shakes his head, “No, I’m the one who forgot—” 

The bus pulls up at that moment spraying them with oily water from a puddle on the side of the road. They both spit and sputter like soaked cats, Baekhyun’s final words “—my umbrella” lost from the tip of his tongue.

They shuffle onto the bus, and take a seat near the middle, Chanyeol attempting to close his unruly umbrella as he goes without spraying half the bus is cold rainwater. When they finally get settled, (Chanyeol only hit one woman with his umbrella, and doused a man’s newspaper entirely, a new personal record for disturbing the least amount of people) Baekhyun shivers in his seat while Chanyeol hurriedly moves to unzip his jacket.

“Aren’t you cold?” Baekhyun manages to sputter through gnashing teeth and shivers. Chanyeol shrugs. 

“Not really. The cold doesn’t really bother me.” Baekhyun swears he sees Chanyeol smirk at him, but he’s too cold to be sure, and besides, he’s currently investing quite a bit of his energy into glaring at the bus’s internal AC system. Why were they running the air-conditioning in late-February again? Baekhyun decides that despite the fact that it ran on taxpayers’ money, public transportation wasn’t all that public-friendly.

Five minutes into the bus ride, Chanyeol can’t help but think Baekhyun might be on the brink of contracting hypothermia. He’s no doctor and he certainly never studied biology in college, but he’s pretty sure you can die if you shiver too much. Or something like that. 

“Um, not to be weird....er,” Chanyeol mumbles, fidgeting with his umbrella.

“S-sorry, w-what?” Baekhyun bites out, his teeth chattering madly. Chanyeol clears his throat and speaks up louder to be heard over Baekhyun’s clashing teeth.

“Um, not to be weird, or anything,” Chanyeol says in a markedly louder and deeper voice all the while still fidgeting with his umbrella, “But, do you want my coat?” The umbrella slips from his hand, and clangs to the ground, popping open upon impact and spraying the lady in front of them with cold rainwater. She shoots them a very dirty look before making a huge show of getting to her feet, letting out a little ‘hmph’, and moving to another seat. 

Chanyeol gapes in horror at the awkwardness of the whole situation as Baekhyun bursts out into giddy laughter, made all the sharper and crisper by his oncoming full-body frostbite.

“Oh god,” Chanyeol mutters, but Baekhyun continues to laugh. 

“You’re very strange,” Baekhyun comments once he’s finally calmed down.

The bus slows to a stop, and Baekhyun glances up at the LED display before smiling back at Chanyeol. “Looks like I didn’t need your jacket after all,” he says brightly, “this is my stop.” 

Baekhyun swears he sees a hint of disappointment in Chanyeol’s eyes, and it tugs at his heartstrings in a way that makes him want to remedy the pain as soon as possible.

“I work at the café on Sixth on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he manages to say while his mind spins, trying to orchestrate a successful exit of the bus and his tongue’s acrobatic tricks to not sound incredibly stupid all at once. “Uh, maybe I’ll see you there?” 

Chanyeol smiles at Baekhyun and its all teeth with a hint of giddiness,   
“Maybe.” 

Chanyeol’s smile makes Baekhyun forget it’s raining.

Almost like the sun shining through on a stormy day.

****

It rains mercilessly the day before midterms and equal parts comedy, equal parts tragedy, Byun Baekhyun is stranded at the science center without an umbrella.

Sehun and Jongin had left a few minutes prior after Sehun had uttered perhaps the most half-assed apology in the history of their friendship, “Sorry, hyung, I’d really like to share with you, but I, uh, can’t.” With that, the pair of gremlins had gone running out into the rain, snickering something awful, while Baekhyun had been left behind fuming and cursing them.

On top of the cruel betrayal of abandonment, now is absolutely not the time to be stranded up the river of academia without his homework or books. He has a midterm in less than sixteen hours in a course for which he hasn’t even bought the textbook yet, and his precious cram time is slipping away every second he spends standing here glaring at the rain.

He’s just about to just say ‘fuck it’ and run into the torrential downpour, leaving his old Lenovo to drown in his backpack, when a deep voice stops him.

“No umbrella?” 

Baekhyun turns to see Chanyeol, standing with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a black umbrella half folded in his hand. 

“How could you tell?” 

Chanyeol laughs and steps forward, opening the umbrella so that it shields both of them from the rain, “Here.” 

Baekhyun glances around at the arrangement somewhat haphazardly. Noticing his hesitation, Chanyeol looks down at him with wide worried eyes. “What? Is something wrong?” 

Baekhyun answers slowly. “You’re just, uh, very tall. And the umbrella is up, uh, very high. And I don’t think this is going to work.” 

Chanyeol reassesses the situation, this time noticing Baekhyun’s problem, before hunching over, linking arms with Baekhyun, and dragging him out into the rain. 

“W-what are you doing? Wait!” 

“In that case, we’ll just have to walk _really_ close together.” 

“Isn’t hunching over like that uncomfortable?” Baekhyun asks, as he reluctantly stumbles along to keep up with Chanyeol’s monstrous gait. The whole thing feels terribly awkward and he’d rather be soaking wet, than suffering under this awkwardly held umbrella with a guy he just met a few weeks ago.

“Are you dry?” Chanyeol asks instead of answering Baekhyun’s question, which catches Baekhyun off guard enough to really consider his current situation. And despite the fact that Baekhyun is feeling horribly awkward, cramped, and dragged along on a wild ride, he has to admit, he is definitely not wet.

“Uh, yeah.” They come to a stop at a traffic crossing, the commotion of not having to manage walking like some sort of hideous two-headed, four-legged creature from the black lagoon disappearing, and making the world seem oddly peaceful. Raindrops splash in the oil slicked puddle on the side of the road and Baekhyun takes mental note of how beautifully colorful all the lights reflected on the wet asphalt are. 

“Then I’m fine,” Chanyeol finally answers.

“What?” 

“If you’re dry, then I’m fine.” 

Due to the rain, the cafeterias are tragically closed, so Baekhyun and Chanyeol end up grabbing dinner together at the Chinese to-go restaurant right by Baekhyun’s dorm. Baekhyun thanks Chanyeol whole-heartedly by buying him an extra large portion of beef and broccoli. 

When Chanyeol finally drops Baekhyun off at his dorm after dinner, Baekhyun thanks him again and promises next time he won’t forget his umbrella.

It’s a hollow promise, but then again, maybe promising to remember some things just isn’t as easy as it seems.

****

“Baekhyun, do you know what memory consolidation is?” 

Baekhyun doesn’t remember who asked the question anymore or why, but he remembers the answer even now. 

“A process that stabilizes memory after its initial acquisition.” 

In other words, memory consolidation can keep a person from forgetting, can keep memories from slipping away.

Ah yes, of course, it was the answer to the final question on his neuropsych final junior year. 

“Memory consolidation is: d) a category of processes that stabilize a memory trace after its initial acquisition, one form of which occurs in the hippocampus.”

****

“So.” Baekhyun stares squarely at Chanyeol, who stares back rather placidly. “Favorite mythological creature?” 

Chanyeol smiles and Baekhyun really, _really_ wants to force his mouth open and count the teeth himself because he swears, Chanyeol has more than thirty-two for sure. 

He might even consider counting them with his tongue if Chanyeol can behave for once. No promises though.

“That’s easy, Baek. Phoenix.” 

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at Chanyeol. “I was really thinking I could get you with that one,” he says, leaning back against the soft, worn pleather couch. 

“Didn’t I tell you? I have an answer for everything.” 

Baekhyun snorts, grabbing his bio textbook and flinging it at Chanyeol who catches it just barely. “Oh yeah? Do you have an answer for number sixteen?” 

Chanyeol opens the book and reads the question slowly as Baekhyun stretches out so his legs rest in Chanyeol’s lap. Chanyeol’s Macbook, on which they had been marathoning ‘How I Met Your Mother’, lays on the floor next to the couch, the ass-numbing decision to watch all seven seasons in one night forgotten in favor of playing a convoluted version of twenty questions Chanyeol had called: How to Get to Know Someone the Park Chanyeol Way (Patent Pending.) 

“D,” Chanyeol says simply, handing the book back to Baekhyun who gapes at Chanyeol.

Baekhyun grabs the book and reads it eagerly, the smile slowly slipping from his face as he reads answer D. He stares up at Chanyeol. “Something tells me that adaptive radiation is not ‘D. the powerhouse of the cell.’ 

Chanyeol grins at him, “I said I had an answer for everything. Not necessarily the right answer.” 

Baekhyun kicks him, but Chanyeol just laughs, loud and proud. Baekhyun hates that Chanyeol’s laughter is contagious because soon, he’s laughing, too, while both their voices and legs tangle together. 

“You’re such a shit,” Baekhyun finally wheezes, leaning forward to slap Chanyeol’s arm in a fit of joy. 

But, Chanyeol catches Baekhyun’s hand in his and holds it. “A lovable shit.” 

Baekhyun looks away as the faintest tint of pink creeps onto his cheeks. “Don’t push it, Park.”

“Well since I won—”

“Wait, what? When did you wi—”

“You owe me a date.” 

Baekhyun shuts his mouth somewhat unceremoniously, while Chanyeol’s fingers skim up and down Baekhyun’s legs. “I’m listening.” 

“The café down on Sixth on Friday?” 

Baekhyun scowls, “That’s so far. Why not some place closer?” 

“Because I love their crepes!” Chanyeol exclaims, aghast that Baekhyun could have overlooked such a crucial part of his decision-making process, “One day, I’m going to live near Sixth so I can get those crepes all the time.”

“This is a breakfast date?” Baekhyun replies, somewhat confused, “But I have evolution on Friday mornings...” 

“No, we’re getting dinner.” 

“Crepes for dinner?” Baekhyun asks, brows furrowed, “Who eats crepes for dinner?” 

Chanyeol pretends to faint, overzealous as always, nearly knocking Baekhyun off the couch. “I do! Everyone with taste does! Honestly, Byun Baek how are we going to be together forever if you don’t understand that crepes can make a delicious dinner!” 

Baekhyun blinks at Chanyeol, who is staring at him with the most serious expression. 

“Together forever?” he repeats and he can see the tips of Chanyeol’s huge Dumbo-like ears redden, but Chanyeol’s serious expression doesn’t falter.

“Forever. Starting with crepes.”

****

Baekhyun works at the café on Sixth because they offered him good pay and decent benefits (considering he’d be working part time.) 

An old friend from college, Kim Jongin, had suggested the position to him after hearing Baekhyun needed a little extra money to make ends meet considering his lofty and sudden medical expenses. 

“I was in an accident,” he had mumbled sheepishly during the interview, hoping the extra employee baggage wouldn’t get him rejected. But, the understanding manager had merely nodded as if this was the sort of thing he heard during interviews all the time, and handed Baekhyun his apron and schedule for work.

Sometimes, when Baekhyun rearranges the display case of pastries or shines the mahogany tables, he wonders if maybe his manager does hear that sort of thing a lot. If maybe, there are more people walking around on this Earth like him than he thought. 

If maybe, he isn’t alone.

And most importantly, if there is some secret congregation of others like him, if they’ve discovered a way to retrieve what’s been long lost. 

“Order up for table two,” the chef’s booming voice cuts through Baekhyun’s train of thought. “That’s your table, right Baekhyun?” 

Baekhyun nods grabbing the plate off the bar to deliver to the customers, served up with a smile.

Two crepes for the happy couple.

****

Chanyeol brings Baekhyun’s flowers for every major holiday. 

It’s not really that Chanyeol is more romantic than Baekhyun, or even that Chanyeol particularly likes flowers, no, no. Baekhyun believes it’s because Chanyeol has a certain need to show off, obtains a certain high from being fawned over and praised. And what better way to secure praise and adoration than by showering Baekhyun with over the top, superfluous, flashy as fuck flowers? 

Chanyeol eventually slips into the habit of bringing Baekhyun roses.

“Do you even like roses?” Sehun had asked one day while they were skulking around outside the cafeteria, waiting for the linear TA to show up so they could beg for extensions.

“Why?” Baekhyun had replied, as he had scanned the chairs and tables meticulously, “Because of Chanyeol?” 

“Yes, exactly, because of Chanyeol,” Sehun had rolled his eyes as if this were the most ‘duh’ response in the universe. “If not Chanyeol, then who else?” 

Before Baekhyun had even had the chance to answer, Chanyeol had popped out of nowhere almost instantaneously. Baekhyun swore Chanyeol was like Beetlejuice; say his name three times and poof, there he came.

Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol.

Damn, that thought sure did make sex interesting.

“Of course he loves roses,” Chanyeol had ascertained, even gasping a little for dramatic effect as if he couldn’t believe Sehun would even ask such a scandalous question. 

“I’m just asking because hyung has never seemed like a roses sort of guy,” Sehun had answered, to which Chanyeol had _of course_ overreacted, clutching his chest and acting like he’d been shot. Baekhyun wanted to ask what a ‘roses sort of guy’ was exactly, but beyond that, he felt no need to comment on the matter. He liked anything that Chanyeol brought him, from the expensive chocolates Chanyeol had ordered for their first anniversary (“Look Baekhyun! They’re imported! From Spain! We should go there someday...”) to the stupid poncho Chanyeol had brought him back from the summer his family had visited Niagara Falls (“I could have gotten you this or a stuffed dolphin. Which do _you_ think is more practical, huh?) 

Of course, Sehun had been wrong, even though Baekhyun hadn’t been prepared to voraciously defend the notion at the time. 

Because the one time Chanyeol brought Baekhyun flowers that weren’t roses, the world fell apart.

****

Baekhyun and Chanyeol disagree on a fair number of things. It’s what keeps the relationship fresh, and while they happen to share the same almost clockwork reaction of spontaneous laughter to anything even remotely funny (or crude, as the case certainly is most of the time for college boys), they have a decent number of opinions they like to, ah hem, politely discuss on long car rides and loudly in movie theatres before “and now, your feature presentation!” 

While Baekhyun enjoys sugar sweet, bubblegum, generic brand pop, Chanyeol opts for the lesser known, grade A hipster tunes. The point of contention becomes especially popular on road trips to visit family.

(“It’s my car so I get to choose what we listen to.”

“Well, if I could drive—”

“I can’t believe you still don’t have your driver’s license, Baek.” 

“I grew up in a city where we enjoyed the luxuries of public transportation.” 

“Public transport sucks ass.”

“Much like your taste in music.”

“....I’m going to burn your SNSD poster.”

“Bite me, Park Chanyeol.) 

While Chanyeol adores the thrill of roller coasters and Vomit Comets at the local amusement parks, Baekhyun hates heights and screams like a little bitch whenever Chanyeol drags him on Terror Mountain (which is more often than not, leading certain casual observers i.e. Sehun and Jongin, to wonder if there are some underlying hidden motives there, i.e. the rumored local dare that no one can successfully give a handjob during the fifty foot drop.) 

And while Baekhyun loves dancing, Chanyeol abhors the very thought of having to move all of his gangly limbs in time with a continuous beat. In fact, Chanyeol really hates any sort of coordinated physical activity. The time Baekhyun dragged him to the old time disco roller rink, when Chanyeol visited Baekhyun’s hometown, was a nightmare in and of itself. Chanyeol swore off roller-skating after the first set of funky fresh songs. Baekhyun had pouted. Chanyeol was back on skates again faster than a druggie on crack. 

They can bicker a lot; sometimes their temperaments just don’t mesh. 

And bystanders can become concerned, if only peripherally. 

** 

“Are you and Chanyeol fighting again?” 

Baekhyun doesn’t answer right away from where he’s planted in front of their TV. He’s looking for a good action flick to watch in lieu of studying for midterms, and would rather not think about the conceited asshole, Park Chanyeol, at the moment, “No,” he finally answers, cramming some buttery popcorn in his mouth before replying, spewing the green carpet in half-chewed kernels.

“Then why are you here in our room instead of sucking face with him in some dark alley?” 

Baekhyun is appalled. “We never messed around in an alley!” He hears a sigh behind him.

“You two shouldn’t fight.” 

Baekhyun shoots a look over his shoulder to where his roommate is sitting on his bed, legs neatly folded, color-coded sticky notes peeking out of his biology textbook. “Since when did you become so pro-Chanyeol?” 

“Since I saw how happy he made you,” is the plain reply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If he did something wrong then tell him. Give him the chance to apologize. And if he doesn’t, then you have a right to be angry. But, if he says sorry and really means it, then you have to listen.” 

Baekhyun grumbles into his popcorn.

“But, seriously, you need to go make up with him because I’m kicking you out.” 

Baekhyun shoots up from the floor, “What?” 

“I need to study for my genetics final and I can’t with you being so loud and annoying. So, please, go get back together and stop dripping butter all over the floor. The dorm will charge us for those damages later...” 

Baekhyun groans, but still turns off the TV and puts the now half-empty bowl of popcorn on his desk. “Fine. I’m going. But you might regret this,” Baekhyun mockingly singsongs. 

“Without you here I’ll be able to study in peace for the first time all week, pass my genetics final, get into med school, and save millions of lives. I really doubt it, Baekhyun.” 

Baekhyun makes a face, but a moment later mumbles out a ‘thank you’ before grabbing his jacket. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Baekhyun says in a tone that seems so unnatural coming from his usually arrogant mouth, that he can feel his tongue actually struggle to form the words.

“Naturally. Just please, for my sake, don’t fight anymore.” 

Baekhyun doesn’t necessarily keep that promise because he and Chanyeol still have some conflicting opinions. 

But, differences aside, there was always one thing he and Chanyeol could absolutely agree on without a doubt.

And that was that they both fucking hate cleaning with a passion.

Oh, and loved dogs.

But, mostly, they fucking hated housework.

****

“You apartment is actually the most disgusting thing I’ve seen since, well,” Baekhyun pauses to look around the room, eyes flitting from the mountain of dishes in the kitchen sink to the dirty laundry strewn all over the yard sale-esque pleather furniture, “the first thing I saw when I woke up this morning.” 

Chanyeol blinks back at his boyfriend, the meaning of Baekhyun’s words slowly washing over him. “Wait, but I slept over last night....that means....” Baekhyun sneers at Chanyeol over his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, maybe if I didn’t think I would contract the Bubonic Plague in here,” Baekhyun replies, kicking an empty pizza box out of his way, “I thought Sehun was just shitting me when he said he saw a rat in here last week, but honestly, I’m not so sure anymore.” 

Chanyeol squeaks in protest at the allegation, while rushing to steer Baekhyun away from a closet filled with all the old crap he’s been collecting over the last three years of college, along with who knows what else. The eighth circle of hell might be in there at this point. Truthfully, Chanyeol has no clue.

“Sehun doesn’t know shit,” Chanyeol tries to say convincingly (‘try’ being the key word here) as he grabs Baekhyun’s hand to lead him away from the closet and to a safe, _clean_ haven in his apartment. Which Chaneyol quickly discovers is fuck all _nowhere._

“Ah yes, a dead end,” Baekhyun comments as Chanyeol pulls him to the end of the hallway, past the doors for the bedroom and bathroom, right up against the wall. “How charming. Tell me, do you take all of your hot dates here?” 

Chanyeol turns to face Baekhyun, obviously flustered in the tight space, “Well, that wouldn’t explain why you’re here, would it?” 

The grin slides off Baekhyun’s face remarkably fast, “Fucking rude.”

Chanyeol flashes Baekhyun his one hundred twenty megawatt smile while reaching behind himself to grasp the doorknob on the bedroom door, turning it deftly to smoothly open the door behind him. “Just the first part,” he replies still smiling, lacing his longer fingers around Baekhyun’s wrist and pulling him inside.

****

Chanyeol doesn’t show up at the café the Tuesday after Baekhyun meets him on the bus. Baekhyun won’t say he’s disappointed, but he can’t help but feel slightly hollow. He goes home to an apartment filled with some items he just can’t remember ever buying. But, Joonmyun has remedied those fears easily. After all, can you remember where you bought every single trinket in your room? The sagging brown bunny from when you were twelve? The collection of marbles in a purple, velvet sack shoved under your bed? 

But, Baekhyun can’t help but think it might be something more than that. 

After all, he can’t recall ever going to Niagara Falls, so why does he have a souvenir poncho (and a well-worn one at that) in his closet? 

And he doesn’t really like Rilakkuma, so why does he have not one, but three Rilakkuma plushies next to an old, leather bag under his couch? 

And why do some things just have to leave and disappear and never come back? 

Baekhyun has a lot of questions, and as more and more time passes, it seems less likely that he’ll ever find the answers. 

So, instead he looks forward to things he knows. Like Chanyeol from the bus.

He hopes everything will come back one day. He hopes Chanyeol will come back.

****

Chanyeol proposes to Baekhyun in spring of their senior year the only way he knows how: over the top and completely in love with Baekhyun.

Baekhyun accepts Chanyeol’s proposal at graduation the only way he knows how: with a smirk and completely in love with Chanyeol.

They’re married before the air gets chilly and the brilliant fall foliage erupts at the city park. Sehun wins the bet that they’d be married before they turned twenty-four. Jongin wins the bet that at least one person would get drunk and cry during a wedding toast (The drunk crier was Sehun. He bawled like a bitch recounting his friendship with Baekhyun since middle school and how he couldn’t believe his “hyung was all grown up.” Jongin was so embarrassed, but they had great drunk sex afterwards, so there was that silver lining.) 

They move into a small apartment on Eighth Street together, and for a while, life seems picture perfect. 

Ah but, hasn’t anyone ever told you? Things are not always what they appear.

****

“Let’s get a dog.” 

It’s a lazy Sunday morning, and they’re both still in bed, Baekhyun’s head resting on Chanyeol’s chest. Light filters in through half-drawn shades, and the clock is knocked off to the side so that neither can read the LED display properly. It’s the little things in life, like not having to worry about the time, and sheets and limbs tangled up together, that make everything seem so perfect on a Sunday mornternoon. 

Chanyeol’s eyes light up at the suggestion, and Baekhyun can feel his deep voice rumble in his chest when he talks. “Like adopt one? From the shelter?” 

Baekhyun sits up properly so that he can deliver his sarcastic comeback staring right into his husband’s eyes, “No, let’s kidnap one from the Queen of England.” 

Rather than shrug off the comment, Chanyeol sits up, too, eyes twinkling mischievously, “A dog heist?” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but finds himself nodding along, “Exactly.” The next thing Baekhyun knows, Chanyeol has launched himself onto of him, effectively pinning him to the bed. Baekhyun squeaks out in protest as Chanyeol leans over him, his massive frame dwarfing Baekhyun’s own.

Baekhyun shivers as Chanyeol whispers in his ear, his breath hot and ticklish, “I’d go anywhere with you. We could be a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.” 

Baekhyun tries to roll his eyes and laugh sarcastically, but Chanyeol moves his lips from Baekhyun’s ear to his neck causing Baekhyun’s laughter to come out strained and breathy. Chanyeol smirks into the crook of Baekhyun’s neck.

“Bonnie and Clyde stole riches and valuables,” Baekhyuns finally manages as Chanyeol continues to press kisses into Baekhyun’s exposed skin, while simultaneously swatting his precious collection of three Rilakkuma plushies off the bed: a surefire sign things were about to get hot and steamy.

(“B-baek, s-stop!” Chanyeol had exclaimed nervously the first time they’d really messed around in college. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Baekhyun had asked, instantly stopping his motions, his cheek resting against the bulge in Chanyeol’s boxers, “What is it?” 

“N-not in front of the Rilakkumas!” 

“Seriously?” Baekhyun had wanted to stare up at Chanyeol, but Chanyeol was already covering his face in shame, his back against the doorframe. 

Baekhyun had sighed before getting up from his knees and going to the bed to carefully place the Rilakkumas under the bed. Then he’d returned and sucked Chanyeol off so hard that the latter forgot the Rilakkumas were still under the bed until halfway through the night when he’d promptly shot up, knocking Baekhyun out of bed in the process to yell, “My poor Rilakkumas!”)

“Dogs are riches and valuables. I love dogs.” 

Baekhyun reaches up to tug on Chanyeol’s hair, freeing his neck from Chanyeol’s merciless torture. Chanyeol stares at him with heavily lidded eyes as Baekhyun whispers his reply before pressing their lips together. 

“And I love you.”

****

“Tell me about the accident.” 

Joonmyun’s smile is as kind and understanding as ever, and that’s probably, Baekhyun decides, what pisses him off the most. 

Baekhyun scowls and leans back on the leather sofa, wondering vaguely if it’s even really real leather. Considering the state of the not-so-fine china, Baekhyun entertains the notion that the esteemed, first-rate psychiatrist, Kim Joonmyun, might _actually_ have furnished his office with pleather furniture. Not that Baekhyun is an expert when it comes to pleather. But, the smell does seem familiar. 

“I don’t remember much,” Baekhyun replies off-handedly, as if the details aren’t important. His eyes shift away from Joonmyun, the coffee table, and the cracked china. He stares out the window instead and tries to make himself sound disinterested in the whole thing. Lying to Joonmyun, lying to himself, whatever, it all bleeds together at the end of the day.

“I see...” Joonmyun replies slowly, and almost oddly, Baekhyun finds himself flinching at the hint of sadness in Joonmyun’s tone. He attributes the strange emotion to the fact that he absolutely hates being pitied, and definitely, absolutely, positively not that he actually cares. 

“Do you remember anything about when it occurred? Maybe the weather? Or where you were?” 

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at Joonmyun. It’s not like the doctor to pry.

“Maybe....” Baekhyun finally, breaking a long silence only punctuated by the ticking of a large ostentatious grandfather clock against the far wall. “Maybe there were flowers.” 

“Flowers?” Joonmyun’s surprise goes unnoticed as Baekhyun finds himself caught up in some half-dream, half-memory, foggy and blurred like an out of focus photograph. “What sort of flowers?” 

“Blue flowers...” Baekhyun says, his gaze still far and his brow slightly furrowed.

“Did someone bring you flowers?” Joonmyun asks gently.

“No,” Baekhyun says suddenly, frowning. “They were for someone else. I ordered them. At the flower mart down on Seventh.” 

“Near where you work at the café.” 

Baekhyun nods, though his expression remains disturbed, “I didn’t work at that café before, and my aunt told me I used to live across town.” Baekhyun turns to Joonmyun, “Why was I at that market?” 

Joonmyun leans back in his velvety, plush chair and clasps his hands together as if to assume the preconceived mental image of a ‘thinking psychiatrist.’ “Maybe, that was the only shop where you could find that certain type of flower,” Joonmyun supplies quite logically. “Do you remember what kind of flower it was?” 

Baekhyun’s lips twitch into sort of a half smile, but his expression remains almost painfully sarcastic as a Very Important memory dances just out of his reach. Even as he replies, he can feel some inner voice deep within whispering feverishly, “This is something you must not forget! Do not forget!” 

“I forgot.”

****

The second Tuesday after they meet on the bus, Chanyeol finds Baekhyun in his café. 

Baekhyun brings Chanyeol one order of crepes since Baekhyun’s technically still on the job, but they agree to get drinks after. 

“I always thought crepes were more of a breakfast food,” Baekhyun comments as he sets the plate down in front of Chanyeol.

Chanyeol shakes his head slowly, “Crepes can be enjoyed at all times of the day.” 

Baekhyun laughs, “Yeah, all times of the day forever. Staring with crepes. That should be our new slogan or something.” 

Chanyeol feels something sick and black twist in his stomach and suddenly, he feels like he’s in college again and has just rode Terror Mountain three consecutive times. He wants to run into the backroom and vomit everything out: the sadness, the nausea, and the pain. But, he stays rooted to his stool and picks up his fork and eats. He eats all the crepes because Baekhyun brought them.

After his shift is up, Baekhyun keeps his promise and they go to a bar not too far away. Baekhyun chatters about work and customers he’s served and Chanyeol hates it, because it all feels so natural, and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that Chanyeol is the only one who remembers why. 

Chanyeol lets Baekhyun subconsciously lead the way to the bar, Baekhyun’s feet following a path he no longer really knows. 

When they arrive, Chanyeol asks how he knew the bar and Baekhyun looks around slightly confused before shrugging, “Uh, I think a friend from college bartended down here a few years ago. I don’t remember though.” 

They sit down to have drinks and both order Moscow Mules. Chanyeol notes that the bartender made his a little too sour. He knows a thing or two about making drinks.

They chat about the weather and their drinks, the economy and their jobs. 

Baekhyun learns Chanyeol is an apprentice to the master chef at the downtown French restaurant, notably the fanciest establishment in the tri-state area.

“I originally studied marketing in college,” Chanyeol replies when Baekhyun asks with wide doe-eyes if Chanyeol attended culinary school. “But, not all things go according to plan I guess.” 

This gets a laugh out of Baekhyun. His eyes crinkle when he laughs and Chanyeol’s gut twists in response. “I know that feeling. I was going to be a doctor, but,” Baekhyun shrugs, “Well, now I work part time at the café.” He takes a long sip of his drink. “I do work part time at the university in a lab though, so I guess I’m slowly making my way towards _something._ I went there for my undergrad so they were nice enough to help me out when I graduated a few years ago.” He turns to Chanyeol, “Where did you go to school?” 

Chanyeol’s reply sounds so hollow, he feels like an old, empty log, rotted from the inside out, “I also went to the local university.” 

Baekhyun smiles widely. “What a coincidence. The marketing and science buildings were even close to each other. We might have even run into each other on campus!” 

Baekhyun laughs enough for both of them, and Chanyeol tries oh so hard to be caught up in the moment. He hopes—he prays—the alcohol can make it all go away. Feelings, memories, everything. But, even as his grip on his glass tightens, he can feel his restraint slip, and he excuses himself politely from the company of a bewildered Baekhyun to go to the bathroom where he stares in the mirror for a good long time.

The problem with leaving, Chanyeol decides, is that someone always gets left behind.

Baekhyun continues to sip his drink alone and at 11:23PM, as usual, his watch’s alarm goes off. He toasts to the future and the person that set that watch alarm long, long ago.

Bottoms up.

****

Baekhyun and Chanyeol still have good-natured arguments, and what Jongin and Sehun not so affectionately call ‘lovers’ spats,’ while standing in line at the market to buy bread and condoms. 

Their opinions on music, and roller coasters, and dancing all still clash wildly, and everyone knows and remembers if only because Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol are also excessively loud alone. Put them together and what have you got? Bibbity bobbity fuck.

Moving in together doesn’t serve to smooth out their differences in the least bit. If anything, they just become even more defensive of their own positions, going so far as to sabotaging the other into admitting they’re right.

Chanyeol serves Baekhyun fried eggs and rice sprinkled with cucumber when he switches Chanyeol’s Skrillex CD out for his personal mixtape of SNSD’s best work (volume 29.) Baekhyun refuses to let Chanyeol cum after teasing him for forty-five minutes after Chanyeol tricks him into going on the local amusement park’s latest dark roller coaster (“It’s a baby roller coaster, I swear! I saw like a seven year old riding it last week!”) 

But, the thing that they continue to agree on, through thick and thin, no matter what as the years ago by, through sickness and through health, until death do they part, is that cleaning is still, and will always be, a bitch.

“You know, since we live together now, if our apartment descends into complete disgustingness, it is partially _your_ fault, too, right?” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes as he pulls their linen out of the dryer. “Come here and help me fold this, you messy giraffe.” 

“That hurts, Baek.” 

“Not as much as you will hurt if you don’t help me with this.” 

Chanyeol grumbles and trudges over to Baekhyun to grab the other ends of the sheet to help him fold it. “Since when do you like cleaning?” he asks slyly and Baekhyun scoffs. 

“Since never, but I’d rather not contract tetanus in my own household.” 

Chanyeol looks like a wounded animal, “My apartment wasn’t _that_ messy.” 

“You were filthy.” 

Chanyeol waggles his eyebrows at Baekhyun, his almost monstrous grin peeking out at Baekhyun each time they move the sheet up and down to fold it. “In more ways than one.” 

Baekhyun shakes his head, “Yes, yes, we cut out vanilla sex long ago. Congratulations, your dick is amazing.” 

Chanyeol beams at Baekhyun’s unamused expression as they finally finish folding the sheet together. Baekhyun takes the nicely folded bundle from Chanyeol to go place in the linen closet.

“One more thing,” Chanyeol says, stopping Baekhyun before he’s out of his reach. 

“What?” 

Chanyeol leans over and kisses Baekhyun lightly on the forehead. “My dick is amazing, but not as amazing as you.”

****

Chanyeol and Baekhyun go to a park for their unofficial second date. Unofficial mostly because no one brings chocolates or roses, and they sure as hell don’t dress up, but definitely a ‘date’ because there are definitely butterflies in Chanyeol’s stomach when he sees Baekhyun waiting in front of the fountain.

“So, tell me about yourself Baekhyun,” Chanyeol asks, even though he already knows all the answers. He knows everything there is to know about Baekhyun. But, Baekhyun can’t possibly know that and so he asks. And it’s not like Chanyeol ever gets sick of listening to Baekhyun’s voice.

“Let’s see...” Baekhyun strokes his chin pensively, and Chanyeol wants to push him into the fountain and hug him all at once. He settle for laughing in what he thinks is a subtle manner. The chickadees bathing in the fountain don’t agree, and fly away quickly, offended by his loud guffaw. 

“I majored in biology at the local university. Wanted to be a doctor, but uh, decided med school wasn’t really for me. At least not right now. So, I do research by day, and serve up crepes by night.” Baekhyun laughs, “It sounds cooler when I say it like that, I guess.” 

Chanyeol nods along, “Very cool.” 

Baekhyun flashes him a one hundred watt smile. “But, you already knew all of that so, uh, let’s see.... Byun Baekhyun’s quick fun facts! I, unfortunately, love SNSD dearly, shitty pop music and all, hate heights, and love dancing. And I hate, absolutely hate, doing housework.” 

Chanyeol swears he can feel his heart breaking in his chest.

How can a heart break, but still function enough for him to go on living? It’s not fair; Baekhyun was the biology major, not him. 

None of this is fair at all.

“What about you?” Baekhyun asks, still smiling, and completely oblivious.

Chanyeol shakes his head slowly, trying to clear his throat and reign his rebellious tearducts back in; now is not the time to cry over Byun Baekhyun’s quick fun facts of all things. He told himself he could do this, and he can. He will.

But, he can’t bring himself to argue good-naturedly with Baekhyun, not right now. He can’t bring himself to pretend everything is normal, everything is fine, light and dandy. He just can’t do that right now, so instead of arguing, he nods half-heartedly, “I agree.” 

Chanyeol swears, for just a moment, he sees some dark expression cloud Baekhyun’s features, but an instant later, it’s gone, and Baekhyun is smiling at him with his full-force, rectangular smile.

“I guess my fun facts aren’t all that unique are they?” Baekhyun laughs, and Chanyeol tries to laugh, too, but it comes out more like pathetic wheezing. If Baekhyun notices the odd behavior, he doesn’t comment on it though, because a moment later, he’s pointing at a cute brown and white beagle on the other side of the fountain.

“Oh, and I’ve always wanted a dog.” 

Chanyeol swallows hard, following Baekhyun’s line of sight to the generic beagle, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’ve always thought it would be nice to settle down with someone and a dog, you know? That would be perfect.” 

Chanyeol looks over at Baekhyun whose still watching the dog, a far off look in his eye. “Yeah, perfect.”

****

Chanyeol comes to the café again a few Tuesdays later. When he first enters, he’s somewhat surprised to see that Baekhyun is nowhere to be found. Nervously, he takes a seat at the table in the corner of the room so that he can avidly watch all the people coming and going. With each moment that Baekhyun is absent, he can feel his heartbeat quicken. He waits a few moments, but the café is empty and no one has even come to check on him, let alone Baekhyun. He taps his fingers on the table in time with his heartbeat: the sound is maddening in his ears.

Finally, he notices Baekhyun standing unmoving in the alcove between the kitchen and the dining room. After glancing around again to confirm that there are no other waiters on the floor, he rises from his table to check on Baekhyun.

He approaches Baekhyun’s turned back slowly as not to startle him. “Baekhyun?” as soon as he calls his name, he notices that Baekhyun is on the phone. 

Baekhyun jumps when he hears his name, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. When he turns, his expression is just barely unreadable for a short flash, before he grins. “Chanyeol!” he exclaims, “I’m so sorry. Were you waiting for a while?” 

“Uh, no, I just got here,” Chanyeol quickly lies, flexing his fingers, “Sorry, I didn’t notice you were on the phone.” 

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Baekhyun replies casually, “Actually I was just listening to the voicemail message. No harm done. Here, let me get you an order of crepes on the house.” 

So, Chanyeol eats his crepes and they talk in between Baekhyun rushing about the dinner crowd, and this time Chanyeol leaves the café alone. But, it’s not a complete loss; he does leave with Baekhyun’s number (Baekhyun’s changed it since the accident, of course.) 

Later that night, Chanyeol calls Baekhyun and asks if he’s busy on Sunday. 

Sundays are absolutely a no go for Baekhyun, but Baekhyun doesn’t feel like divulging that he’s Damaged Goods just yet, so instead he suggests Chanyeol come clubbing with his old college friends on Saturday.

Chanyeol doesn’t like dancing, but he does like Baekhyun. So, he says yes. 

Where have we heard that one before?

****

The club is loud and stuffy, and Baekhyun wonders why exactly, they’re there again. They’re a settled married couple now, not a pair of college partygoers looking for a cheap thrill.

“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we have to be socially dead,” Chanyeol exclaims as he grabs a drink off a passing waiter’s tray.

Baekhyun faux gasps, “You don’t like Scrabble Saturdays with Sehun? It’s the triple S of fun!” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, “Sehun’s fucking illiterate, but I’m always proud of him for trying.” 

“How did he even graduate?” Baekhyun ponders aloud as Chanyeol loops his arms around his husband’s waist and pulls him onto the dance floor.

“You hate dancing!” Baekhyun yells above the loud, pulsing techno music, the beat reminding them both of their time working on the morning radio show in college.

Chanyeol flails about, only vaguely in time with the music, and Baekhyun laughs, loud and obnoxiously: the picture perfect depiction of true love.

“But, you love dancing! Especially to these shitty pop songs!” 

Baekhyun makes a face at him but Chanyeol quickly pulls him back into his own rhythm, moving their arms in time to a beat of their intertwining heartbeats, perfect and all their own.

****

The club is loud and stuffy, and drenched in old memories that reek like spilled alcohol on old upholstery. The flashing strobe lights and pounding bass are just as Chanyeol remembers, and as he follows Baekhyun through the crowd swaying to and fro, Chanyeol wonders vaguely if Baekhyun remembers it, too.

“It’s not really my idea of Saturday night fun,” Baekhyun shouts over his shoulder, “But, my friends still think we’re still in college, so...” He shrugs to end his statement and Chanyeol tries to laugh in response, but both his feelings and voice are drowned out in the pulsing crowd.

“Here they are!” Baekhyun exclaims exasperatedly, finally pulling Chanyeol into a booth on the second level of the club. “Why do you two constantly feel the need to change booths every time we come?” 

“It keeps things fresh, hyung!” Baekhyun’s blond college friend is saying with a smug smile, while the figure on his left laughs loudly and bangs on the table in glee. Chanyeol squints at the two figures, trying to see their faces in the darkness. A strobe light flashes over their table, illuminating half empty glasses of beer, napkins strewn about, a half-full package of condoms, and the faces of two men Chanyeol has known for over half a decade now.

“Chanyeol, these are my shitty friends from college, Oh Sehun and Kim Jongin.”

****

“Okay, then. The usual?” 

Chanyeol looks from Baekhyun, to Sehun, to Jongin, and then back to Baekhyun, whose tongue is peeking out from between his lips in fixated concentration. He wants nothing more in that moment than to push Sehun and Jongin out of the way, and make out with his husband, but business comes first. And the business just happens to be making sure Sehun and Jongin pay for the cab.

“The usual,” Baekhyun agrees.

Jongin nods, mumbling his agreement, while Sehun says loudly, in an annoyed fashion, “Can we just get this over with?” 

“Okay, okay,” Chanyeol says quickly before, “Ready? Rock, paper, scissors!” 

The last word is punctuated by all four boys throwing their choice into the makeshift ring of bodies, Baekhyun choosing rock (“Solid choice, Baek.” “....Really, Yeol?”), Jongin choosing scissors, Chanyeol choosing paper, and Sehun holding up some weird convoluted mash up of all three with three fingers extended and a half crumpled fist. 

“What the fuck is that?” Chanyeol asks, staring blankly at Sehun’s half-rock, half-scissors, full on nightmare.

“Okay, so,” Sehun says, ignoring Chanyeol, “Paper beats rock, so Chanyeol beats Baekhyun. Obviously, just like he beats his ass.” Sehun moves Chanyeol’s hand to cover Baekhyun’s, “Life imitates art.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Baekhyun jabs Sehun in the ribs hard, but years of being a little shit has made Sehun Strong: he has ribs of steel.

“And scissors beat paper, so Jongin wins against Chanyeol. And I win against all of you because I played plasma.” 

“What the fuck is plasma?” 

“The fourth state of matter after gas, liquid, and solid, duh.” With that, Sehun quickly opens the cab door, grabs Jongin by the wrist, and yanks him out, shutting the door with fervor and maniacal glee.

“To Eighth!” he shouts at the driver, who, acting the part of innocent bystander in tonight’s production of “Evil Maknaes Take the City”, dutifully pulls off, Baekhyun and Chanyeol in tow.

Chanyeol crumples against the backseat in defeat while Baekhyun curses the gremlins under his breath.

“I don’t even know why we try to play fair with Sehun,” Chanyeol groans as Baekhyun digs through his wallet looking for money to pay the cabbie fare for not only their ride home, but also to cover Sehun’s and Jongin’s now free ride.

“They’re fucking gremlins, the both of them. We’ll get them next week. Here’s the plan: we’ll tell them to meet us at the bar at seven, but we won’t show up until eight. We’ll trick them into thinking we’ve been in some horrible accident, or some bullshit, but then we’ll actually...” Baekhyun stops halfway through his truly diabolical plan, pausing his expedition for money in his wallet to look up at Chanyeol with a concerned look. “Yeol, do you have any money?” 

Chanyeol’s eyes shoot open and he scrambles to sit up properly, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket, “N-no. I thought you had some!” 

“I do,” Baekhyun says quietly. He pulls out two bills and hands them to Chanyeol, “Twenty-five dollars....” 

Slowly, both of them turn in sync to face the cabbie’s dashboard where the fare is currently displayed in red LED numbers. 

Twenty-four dollars ninety-seven cents. 

And rising. 

Baekhyun and Chanyeol slowly turn to face one another again.

“What happens if you can’t pay a cabbie?” Chanyeol whispers frantically. 

“I don’t know, you clean dishes?” Baekhyun whispers back just as panicked.

“That’s for a restaurant, Baek!” 

“You clean transmissions? Fuck if I know, we need to get out!”

“Um, here’s good,” Chanyeol says, somewhat awkwardly to the cabbie, who pulls over to the side of the road and lets them out just as the numbers on the dash increase to read twenty-five. 

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble out of the cab, and Baekhyun hands the cabbie the money, before the cab speeds off, leaving them on the side of the road.

They take in a moment to soak in their situation and their surroundings. They’re not too far from home, only a few blocks away, but really, it’s the principle of the matter. 

“That little shit,” Chanyeol eventually says. “I’ll kill him.” 

“Bonnie and Clyde strike again,” Baekhyun murmurs in response, and they both pause before laughing aloud, the cool October night greedily swallowing up their glee. 

“Oh hey, look,” Baekhyun says, pointing at a bar across the street, “A help wanted sign! That’s perfect for you, Yeol.” 

Chanyeol follows Baekhyun’s line of sight to a generic ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window of a chic little bar. “I thought you said dating a bartender would be way too cliché,” Chanyeol grins.

“That was dating. Now we’re married. And college loans don’t pay themselves. Plus you’ve always wanted to try bartending.” 

“You just want me to learn how to make Sex on the Beach properly because Sehun fucked it up so badly senior year.” 

“Hey, I have an idea!” Baekhyun announces proudly, “You become a hot as fuck bartender, learn to make Sex on the Beach, and then we fly to Hawaii for our fourth anniversary and you serve me Sex on the Beach while we _have sex_ on the beach! What do you say?” 

Chanyeol scoops his husband up into his arms and kisses him under the stars, “I say, you’re perfect.”

****

Shortly after introducing Chanyeol to Sehun and Jongin and vice versa, Baekhyun excuses himself from the table to go to the restroom, leaving an indisputable cloud of awkwardness in his wake. 

The three sit in silence for a long while, a feat thought impossible to accomplish by anyone who had known the trio throughout college. 

Finally, because he finds the silence absolutely insufferable, or perhaps maybe because he’s had one too many beers for the night, Sehun speaks up.

“It’s been a long time, hyung...” On his right, Jongin takes a long drink from his glass. “Have you been good?” 

Chanyeol nods because he’s not sure what else to say. Not sure what else there is _to_ say. 

“When Baekhyun said he was bringing a date we didn’t know it was you,” Jongin adds quietly. Chanyeol knows he’s trying to hide the bitterness, but he’s doing a lousy job. Chanyeol can hear it, and it cuts deep like a knife through butter. But they try, they both do. Chanyeol has always appreciated it when they try.

“Do you really think this is the best thing to do? For Baekhyun?” Sehun says the words in a low voice, and they sound almost threatening. Quickly he adds, “For you?” 

“Should you really be getting so close to him?” 

“I didn’t know.... I...” Chanyeol takes a deep breath trying to collect himself under their scrutiny. “I’m sorry.”

Sehun nods because he can’t find the words to respond. Jongin takes another sip of his beer because he can’t find the patience.

Chanyeol wishes he could find the time when they were all happy and carefree. Reach far back and pull it back to show them. To prove to them, they were once happy together. They were once all friends.

But he knows those times are gone. And he knows that some things just can’t return. 

And he hopes and he prays that Baekhyun isn’t one of them.

****

“Why biology?” 

The question comes halfway through Baekhyun’s fourth cup of double shot espresso of the night, at approximately 1:39 AM (the night is still young, and the coffee is still lukewarm.) 

Baekhyun looks up from his charts and Punnett Squares, blinking wearily, his eyeballs sagging under all the extra weight from bags upon bags all packed up neatly for finals. Chanyeol is lying on his bed, watching Baekhyun with wide eyes from across the room, his own various papers strewn about his side of the room. 

Agreeing to be roommates senior year of college sounded like a much better idea before they actually became roommates, Baekhyun learned over the year as his grades plummeted and his sex life soared.

“Because it’s interesting, and applicable to every day life,” Baekhyun answers, flipping through his notebook for an explanation to question nine on his practice final.

“What’s the coolest thing you’ve learned?” 

Baekhyun glances over his shoulder at Chanyeol who is staring at him so intently, Baekhyun almost feels nervous under his gaze. He quickly crushes the nervous embarrassment for a tongue-in-cheek answer as usual, resorting to projected overconfidence to get him through the most intense situations in life. “Memory consolidation,” he answers with a shit-eating grin. 

“You little shit.” Chanyeol rolls off his bed and closes the distance between them in two strides, hands coming to rest on Baekhyun’s hands, lips on Baekhyun’s lips. He finds home in Baekhyun’s body and embrace, and much, much later, after Baekhyun’s last Punnett Square has been memorized and the sheets dirtied and changed, Chanyeol plays with Baekhyun’s hair and stares at the ridges and valleys on the ceiling.

“Do you ever miss your old roommate?” he asks, nudging Baekhyun awake slightly. He knows he should let Baekhyun sleep, knows Baekhyun has a final in the morning and can barely function when sleep deprived, but suddenly he feels like he has to know the answer.

Baekhyun’s eyes open sleepily and he smiles up at Chanyeol from where he lays on his chest. “He just moved to another dorm. It’s not like he’s dead.” 

Chanyeol snorts, “You’re always so dramatic.” 

“Hey, it could happen in our line of work.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and they settle back into lazy comfort. Just when Chanyeol is nearly positive that Baekhyun is asleep, Baekhyuns asks, “Why do you ask, Yeol?” 

“O-oh,” Chanyeol is infinitely glad that Baekhyun can’t see him blush in the darkness of their dorm, “Just because, you know, he was your best friend and all.” 

Baekhyun’s voice is light and airy. Chanyeol wants to stick his head in the ground like an ostrich. 

“Sure, but you’re my best friend too, Yeol.”

****

“I was in an accident.” 

“That’s right.” 

“Five months ago.” 

“Give or take a few weeks.” 

“The hospital said I was the only survivor.” Baekhyun pauses, shaking his head. It hurts to remember, to recall these standard basic facts, but Joonmyun demands they do so every other week. 

“Actively remembering is the only way to remember truthfully,” Joonmyun had preached over and over, and when Baekhyun had scowled in response, Joonmyun had accused him of not wanting to remember.

Of course Baekhyun wants to remember. You’d want to remember, too, if you woke up and were told that part of your memories were just poof, gone.

“Joonmyun, what exactly am I trying to remember?” Baekhyun says, diverging from the usual set of facts Joonmyun makes him repeat again and again. 

Joonmyun leans back in his chair, a concerned look on his face, “That’s up to you, Baekhyun.” 

“The doctor told me when I woke up there may be parts of my memory missing. And I’m trying. I’m trying every day to remember what’s gone. But, I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to be looking for.” 

Joonmyun pauses before answering. It’s not like Baekhyun to be so cooperative or curious about his past. Usually he stubbornly attempts to roadblock Joonmyun indefinitely during these sessions, but today he’s being uncharacteristically verbose. 

Joonmyun hopes it’s a sign that Baekhyun’s memories may be coming back.

“Well, what do you remember? What’s missing? We’re here to fill in the blanks together.” 

“My best friend died in the accident. That’s what the doctor said when I woke up,” Baekhyun says slowly, brow scrunched as he tries, he _tries so hard_ to remember.

“You know all of that,” Joonmyun says gently, “What can’t you remember, Baekhyun? Why are you here?” 

“Why am I here....” Baekhyun repeats and Joonmyun knows he’ll lose this chance, maybe even lose Baekhyun, if he doesn’t ground him in the present then and there.

“Tell me about the flowers, Baekhyun.” 

Baekhyun blinks. “The flowers?” 

“The small, blue ones. You said you remembered them from your accident.” 

Baekhyun nods. “Yes. I bought them down on Seventh, near the café where I work now.”

“Have you remembered anything else about them?” 

Baekhyun looks at Joonmyun with a sort of vacant smile, “You’re going to laugh.” Joonmyun merely raises an eyebrow in confusion. He’s a man of science with two degrees from Ivy League institutions, meeting with a patient who’s suffered severe head trauma from a near-death experience. What could he possibly find funny about that? 

“They were forget-me-nots.”

****

When Baekhyun wakes up after the accident, he is not the same Baekhyun Chanyeol knows. 

Well, no, that’s preposterous and perhaps just a little bit of an over exaggeration. No matter what happens to Baekhyun—or Chanyeol—for that matter, they always know each other. That’s what love is: two souls bound for life, always able to find one another in this mixed up world. 

But, the Baekhyun who awakens on the long green hospital bed, dressed in paper, mint green scrubs, and with tubes and IVs attached next to a vase of small, blue flowers does not know who Chanyeol is. 

At first, Chanyeol thinks it’s a game.

Of course, it’s a game. It’s a joke, it’s a trick. 

Baekhyun scared the shit out of Chanyeol in a freak accident, and now he’s playing it up even more. 

‘Haha, jokes on you, Park Chanyeol. You really thought I was gone, right?’ 

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” 

Chanyeol freezes, with his arms around Baekhyun’s neck, his face still buried in his husband’s hair.

“B-baekhyun,” he says slowly removing himself from Baekhyun to lean back and look at him. “Baekhyun, it’s me.” 

But, upon noticing Baekhyun’s wide eyes and fearful expression, Chanyeol realizes horribly that ‘it’s me’ is not going to be enough here. 

“It’s me,” he tries again, but his voice comes out broken and mangled. “It’s Park Chanyeol. Your husband.” 

Baekhyun looks at him with an expression of pure horror, as if Chanyeol has grown a second head, and shakes his head, slowly at first, but faster and faster as the walls spin around them and the world caves in.

“I, I’m sorry, I don’t,” he fidgets with the thin blanket, clasping and unclasping his fists, avoiding Chanyeol’s eyes, “I don’t know who you are. I’m not married.” Finally he looks up at Chanyeol, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Please,” Chanyeol begs, and he must be getting hysterical because there are nurses now, and maybe even a doctor, and they’re pulling him off Baekhyun and saying things that sound overly technical and important(‘memory consolidation’, ‘successful procedure’, ‘authorized consent’.) But, Chanyeol can’t focus on any of that right now because right now, the person he loves most in the world doesn’t even know who he is. “Please, Baekhyun, don’t forget me! Tell me you know who I am!” 

“I don’t know who you are!” Baekhyun shouts back, almost hysterical, “Please leave me alone!” 

“Baekhyun!” 

A harsh, accelerating beeping echoes through the room, and it cruelly challenges Chanyeol’s heartbeat to keep up, to race, faster and faster, and Chanyeol can’t breathe. He reaches out to grab onto Baekhyun, to hold his hand, to pull him back into his reality, a reality where Byun Baekhyun remembers and loves Park Chanyeol, but Baekhyun flinches away as if burned. 

Chanyeol’s hand falls limp and he allows the nurses to lug his flailing body out of the hospital room.

So, joke’s on Park Chanyeol, because despite true love, Byun Baekhyun doesn’t know who Chanyeol is.

And to Park Chanyeol, that’s not the Baekhyun Chanyeol knows either.

****

Later, once Chanyeol has calmed down enough, a doctor explains that after he was escorted out (Chanyeol just loves the way he phrases it) Baekhyun relapsed and fainted. 

The doctor explains the consequences slowly and with a sad sort of smile that almost looks twisted in the shadowy room. 

“When he wakes up, he won’t have any recollection of this meeting. You’ll have a chance to start over, or,” the doctor pauses, “Well, move on with your life, I suppose.” 

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol croaks out, knuckles white from gripping his chair.

“Baekhyun doesn’t remember who you are,” the doctor explains gently, “You can either start over with him, or leave him be.” 

“But, he could remember me, right? That’s a possibility, right?”

“Baekhyun will undergo therapy to aid his memory reconstitution just like all of our outpatients. Whether or not he will remember you is not something I can confirm or deny today.” 

Chanyeol stares at the carpet. “He wasn’t supposed to forget all of this...” he whispers, “Doctor, please...there must be something you can do.” 

“I can say this, however,” the doctor continues as though he hadn’t heard Chanyeol, “You saw what happened today when you tried to force him to remember you. I would not suggest you pursue that route again.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “I shouldn’t try to remind him who I am?” 

For the first time during their meeting, the doctor sounds truly sorry, “He forgot you for a reason, Chanyeol. Perhaps, some things are better left forgotten.” 

He serves Chanyeol tea in a coffee cup that Chanyeol ends up cracking. Chanyeol has always been clumsy, but anxiety and heartbreak have aggravated his symptoms. His apologies come out mangled and twisted, with a healthy side of tears, but the doctor assures him it’s all right; the cup is salvageable. And to even prove his point, he places it back in the cupboard when Chanyeol is done as if to say, ‘look, it’s just fine.’ 

Chanyeol makes a wish that his life with Baekhyun turn out like that cup: cracked but able to be saved by someone who believes in second chances.

****

For their fourth date, Chanyeol and Baekhyun watch a movie. 

A new Marvel universe movie just released and so they go to the cinema, sit close enough that their shoulders touch and their breath mingles when they talk, and argue over who would win in a fight (Baekhyun chooses Iron Man, the _obvious ___champion according to him. Chanyeol chooses Captain America. They get so caught up in banter that they miss the plot twist of the movie and get kicked out of the theatre for disturbing the crowd. Well, sacrifices need to be made in the name of defending their favorite superheroes, of course.)

_Afterwards, they walk around town for a while, somewhat aimlessly, playing word games usually played in elementary school. Eventually, they walk past a restaurant with music playing on its veranda. The song is one Chanyeol and Baekhyun covered for their radio show back in college, and it makes Chanyeol emotional enough to uncharacteristically sweep Baekhyun up into an impromptu dance._

_They’re both laughing so hard that they don’t care about the onlookers or the stares; they’re simply lost in their own world. Chanyeol spins Baekhyun round and round until Baekhyun holds onto Chanyeol’s forearms with a near death grip and begs for him to stop, “Yeol, cut it out!”_

_Chanyeol stops almost immediately, nearly dropping Baekhyun in the process. “What did you call me?”_

_Baekhyun is still laughing and drunken from spinning, still gripping Chanyeol’s arm tight while struggling to steady himself, “Yeol. Sorry, do you not like that nickname?”_

_Chanyeol smiles back, but it’s tight and forced. If Baekhyun notices, he doesn’t comment and Chanyeol believes he’s becoming quite the actor. “No, it’s fine. That’s just the first time you’ve called me that.”_

_“Is it?” Baekhyun laughs, “Sorry, should I warn you next time?”_

_Chanyeol grins before reaching over to ruffle his hair, “No problem, Baek.” Baekhyun slaps his hand away before taking off down the road. “H-hey, wait up!”_

_“Catch me if you can, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun yells over his shoulder before rounding the corner._

_“That little shit.” Chanyeol takes off after Baekhyun at a full sprint._

_This is no different than usual right?_

_Chanyeol would chase Baekhyun forever._

__

****

Kyungsoo doesn’t care much for flowers. He especially doesn’t care for all of the roses that Park Chanyeol has delivered to his and Baekhyun’s room, but it’s not like he minds. A lot, that is.

When Baekhyun asks sheepishly if they’re aggravating his allergies, Kyungsoo tells him ‘no, of course not’ and then excuses himself to the bathroom to cough. He runs the water so Baekhyun can’t hear.

He knows Baekhyun feels bad about the whole ordeal, and also how Chanyeol constantly stops by to make googoo eyes and be Extra Loud, and so he’s uncharacteristically kind to Baekhyun.

He knows he’s trying.

“Are you sure you don’t hate the roses?” Baekhyun asks, as he stands in the doorway with yet another bouquet from Chanyeol. This time for St. Patrick’s Day. Kyungsoo wants to know where Park Chanyeol even _found_ green roses.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would have told you.” 

“I can hear you sneezing in the bathroom.” 

Kyungsoo freezes in mid page turn. Their line of work demands they be sneaky, but so much for being incognito. 

“Well, if you must know, they do aggravate my allergies.” 

Baekhyun looks from the bouquet in his hand to Kyungsoo, and back to the bouquet, “Should I burn them?” 

Kyungsoo sighs, before getting to his feet and taking the bouquet from Baekhyun’s hands to move them to the vase on Baekhyun’s desk. “Absolutely not.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms over his chest before sneezing.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun mumbles, but Kyungsoo brushes the apology off. 

“This guy really seems to like you and I respect that. Even if he is a giraffe.” Kyungsoo sneezes again, “But, just so you know. If you ever want to get _me_ flowers, to you know, apologize for all the insanity you’ve put me through this year, go for something small.” Another sneeze. 

Baekhyun laughs, “So, size does matter.” Kyungsoo glares back. “Okay, okay, sorry. So, any specific flower you have in mind?” 

Kyungsoo chews his lip thinking for a long while, before finally answering.

Not once does Baekhyun interrupt.

“Forget-me-nots.”

****

Baekhyun and Chanyeol grab dinner at a pizzeria for their fifth date. They argue over how much red pepper to use, and eventually end up accidentally unscrewing the top and dumping the whole thing straight onto the pizza.

They gape in horror before bursting into laughter and shoving the pizza into each other’s mouths. They get kicked out of the pizzeria not too long after, but the chef is just nice enough to send them home with to-go boxes. But, not nice enough to replace their unsalvageable pizza. Even kindness has its limits. 

On the way home, they talk about movies and games and politics and stars.

Baekhyun points out the brightest, shining star far, far away, adjacent to the setting sun. “Jupiter,” he says proudly, “I learned a thing or two from being forced to take intro to astronomy for my biology major.” 

He laughs and Chanyeol finds himself laughing, too, and they continue walking until they’ve subconsciously arrived back at Baekhyun’s apartment.

Chanyeol is about to excuse himself and leave when Baekhyun laces his long fingers around Chanyeol’s wrist and pulls him to the door.

“I haven’t shown you my place yet, right?” 

Chanyeol shakes his head slowly, remembering Sehun’s and Jongin’s almost half-warning from the club. 

“Then come on in,” Baekhyun replies with a smile, “The view’s great from up there.” 

Baekhyun’s apartment is just as Chanyeol imagined it would be. Some clothes left here and there, a sweatshirt draped over the polyester couch, a lonely sock on the run from its match. The whole place is decorated in hues of black and green, and Chanyeol wants to laugh, remembering how Baekhyun insisted they paint their bedroom green back when they had a bedroom to share. 

“Sorry, it’s kind of messy,” Baekhyun explains, throwing his sweatshirt aside so they can sit on the couch.

“You should see my apartment.” 

Baekhyun laughs in response. “I’d like that.” 

Chanyeol’s caught off guard by the directness of the answer, and even more caught off guard when he manages to get a good look at Baekhyun, who isn’t smiling but instead staring at him with a completely different sort of look.

“Baekhyun?” 

Baekhyun closes the distance between them in one swift motion, pushing his lips against Chanyeol’s, and Chanyeol welcomes the gesture almost immediately.

His arms snake around Baekhyun’s waist pulling him into his lap, and his mouth slides into place against Baekhyun.

Like two puzzle pieces fitting against one another, their bodies mesh together, and Chanyeol groans low in his throat when Baekhyun grinds against his already half-hard cock.

“Come on,” Baekhyun says in a breathy voice, breaking the kiss and pulling Chanyeol off the couch and away towards the bedroom.

****

“Has Baekhyun told you what it is exactly that we do in our line of work?” 

Chanyeol fidgets with his coffee cup, trying to avoid Kyungsoo’s hardened stare. 

When Baekhyun had told him that his old roommate wanted to grab a cup of coffee with him at the campus café, Chanyeol hadn’t expected it to be so.....

Chanyeol glances up at Kyungsoo’s morbidly serious expression.

....terrifying.

“Um, something with memory consolidation, right?” 

Kyungsoo sighs exasperatedly, leaning back in his seat and massaging his temples. “Is that really the best Baekhyun could explain do to explain it...?” 

Chanyeol knows Baekhyun pretty well. They’ve been dating for over a year, and he really, really, _really_ likes Baekhyun. So, Chanyeol knows just how important it is for Kyungsoo to like Chanyeol, too. 

After all, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo have been inseparable since childhood. There was absolutely no way Chanyeol was going to have a future with Baekhyun without Kyungsoo’s golden star of approval. That was for certain. 

“You guys, uh,” Chanyeol lowers his voice slightly after looking around nervously, “Erase memories, right?” 

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at him. “The Organization works to reconsolidate and renetwork hippocampal neuronal connections to fit to our to clients’ desires.” He glances over at Chanyeol who is looking rather glossy eyed. “So, yes, in a way, we erase memories.” 

“Um, and this Organization you work for....” 

“Top secret information,” Kyungsoo answers shortly. “That’s strictly on a need to know basis.” 

“O-of course.” 

Kyungsoo glances from his coffee (black, of course, why complicate it with unnecessary additives?) to Chanyeol taking everything in. His sheepish expression, his wide eyes, his awkwardly, too long limbs... Kyungsoo really can’t believe this is the person Baekhyun said he wanted to _marry_ one day. 

Kyungsoo sighs. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you may need to know.” 

Chanyeol perks up, “W-what?” 

“Tell me, do you love Baekhyun?” 

Kyungsoo asks the question so suddenly that Chanyeol is caught completely off guard. But, he’s always ready to preach to the world how much he loves Baekhyun and so he answers without missing a beat, “Yes, of course.” 

“And you would do anything for Baekhyun?” 

Chanyeol doesn’t really need to think about the answer at all before answering, “Of course.” 

“And you’ll never hurt Baekhyun. Ever?” 

“Why would I—?”

“Just answer.” 

It’s hard to argue with Do Kyungsoo; that’s one thing Chanyeol has learned in the past year. 

From what movie to watch, to what bus route to take, Kyungsoo is always steadfast in his opinions, and always, _always_ ready to champion Baekhyun’s point of view no matter how seemingly stupid it is. From time to time, Chanyeol admits that he might even be a just a little jealous...

“I will never hurt Baekhyun.” 

“In that case, I’ll tell you about what we do and why.” Kyungsoo takes a deep breath to start explaining everything, but before he can, Chanyeol stops him.

“Just one question.” Kyungsoo stares at him, looking just the smallest bit annoyed. “Why are you telling me this? Why do I need to know suddenly?” 

Kyungsoo sighs a long tired sigh and when he speaks, Chanyeol swears he hears something sad in his voice. “Because in our line of work, things happen. Mistakes happen and people get hurt. And I want you to be able to protect Baekhyun in case one day....in case one day, I can’t.” He looks Chanyeol dead in the eye, “I’ve been protecting Baekhyun for a long, long time. You know that right?” 

Chanyeol nods, eyes still almost comically wide. 

“Since we were seven, Baekhyun and I have only had each other,” Kyungsoo closes his eyes and shakes his head, caught up in his own memories of the past. Chanyeol waits patiently with bated breath. Baekhyun had spoken about his time in the orphanage before, but never at great length. And never in connection to The Organization. “You know, some part of me thought we were going to be inseparable forever...” Kyungsoo glances out the window. It’s springtime and flower petals swirl around in the sunny breeze. Kyungsoo chuckles to himself. Baekhyun has always liked flowers while he was always deathly allergic: he should have seen this coming. “But, now you’re here, and it can’t be helped.” 

Chanyeol wants to ask what that means, but he decides that maybe, now is not the right time...

Kyungsoo pulls a small notebook out of his worn leather bag and begins to draw the crude outline of a gun. “This is the instrument by which we perform our ‘forced reconsolidations’.” 

“Forced reconsolidations....?” 

“Memory erasures,” Kyungsoo clarifies, “To use a layman’s term. By loading the instrument with a premade biomarker and ‘shooting’ the target—to use another layman’s term—certain people, and by extension, events can be erased from the target’s memory.” 

Chanyeol gulps. “Completely?” 

“The success rate is 100:1, and if there are problems, they’re mainly due to human error.” 

“And.... this is legal?” 

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at Chanyeol, “Legal is a blanket term that The Organization rather prefers not to concern itself with. What was that saying? Constriction killed creativity?” 

Chanyeol drums his fingers on the table in time his heartbeat, trying to process Kyungsoo’s words. “And what happens to the target? Do they become dangerous? Is that why your line of work is dangerous?” 

“Not quite,” Kyungsoo replies, “To answer your second question, our line of work is dangerous because, well, there are some people in this world who don’t agree with our agenda.” 

“Your agenda being...?” 

“That,” Kyungsoo punctuates, as he slips his notebook back into his bag, “I really can’t tell you. But, you should know, there are people out there who don’t agree with our methods, or our goal. And, well I did say The Organization doesn’t particularly care for legality, right? All is fair is memory loss and war, I guess.” 

Chanyeol nods slowly, the image of hooded figures wielding memory-erasing guns dancing in his head.

“To answer your first question: most subjects suffer no consequences, aside from the memory loss, of course. However, with any medical procedure, there is the risk of some... unsavory side effects.” 

Chanyeol laughs nervously, “I’m assuming those are classified, too?” 

Kyungsoo shrugs, “Not really. The truth is: the side effects possibly experienced are so numerous and varied, not to mention subject-specific, that I couldn’t really tell you definitively. The most probable side effects experienced, if any, may be some sort of personality altercations, or damage to reasoning capability. Messing with the brain is... well, messy.” 

Chanyeol nods. That much makes sense.

“All of that aside, I want you to promise me that you’ll take care of Baekhyun. And to properly make that promise you need to know about The Organization, and what we do....what dangers we face.” 

Chanyeol nods solemnly.

“I promise, I’ll take care of Baekhyun.” 

“I’m counting on you, Chanyeol. Please, _please,”_ Kyungsoo stresses the word, “Don’t forget this.” 

“I know,” Chanyeol answers, the weight of the world suddenly on his shoulders, his mounting fear now held at bay only by the light of one bright smile. “I won’t forget.”

****

Hands on heated flesh, greedy mouths swallowing moans, Baekhyun and Chanyeol fall back into a rhythm of almost-choreographed, near-perfect push and pull. 

Later, Baekhyun could wonder how it was possible Chanyeol could know his body so well, how he could make him cry out in pleasure with the simplest of actions.

Later, Baekhyun could wonder how it could have been so perfect. Almost as though it had happened before.

Later, Chanyeol would wonder where it all went wrong.

** 

Kyungsoo was always there for Baekhyun. 

This is one of the cardinal truths of the universe that Chanyeol knows. 

Kyungsoo was the one who held Baekhyun tight against his chest, huddled under blankets in the dark of night, as rain pounded on the bay windows of their lonely orphanage. 

Kyungsoo was the one who encouraged Baekhyun to become a doctor, in order to remedy the guilt he felt from The Organization’s rampant memory erasure on innocent souls, by giving back some good in this world. 

Kyungsoo was the one who helped Baekhyun copy over his notes for his finals during junior year after Baekhyun and Chanyeol drenched them in coffee. 

Kyungsoo was the one who helped Baekhyun mend his cap and gown for graduation after Baekhyun had accidentally put in the wrong size. 

Kyungsoo was the one who had driven with Baekhyun all night, all over the city, to quell his fears about marrying Chanyeol. Because Baekhyun had been afraid, so afraid that Chanyeol would be caught up in his dangerous world.

Kyungsoo was the one who had been Baekhyun’s best man at the wedding. 

Kyungsoo was the one who had slapped Baekhyun when Baekhyun had been hysterical about not being able to attend med school due to his time spent working for The Organization. 

Kyungsoo was the one who had cleverly tricked Baekhyun’s landlady into agreeing to allow him and Chanyeol have a dog.

Kyungsoo was the one who had assured Baekhyun that everything would be okay before Chanyeol was there, and Chanyeol always believed Kyungsoo would be there to do the same long after Chanyeol was gone. 

Chanyeol knows all of this, even now, but he doesn't like to think about it. He doesn’t like to remember. In his fondest memories with Baekhyun, Kyungsoo isn’t there. Kyungsoo isn’t in the room with Sehun and Baekhyun when he firsts meets Baekhyun, or waiting back at the dorm the first time Chanyeol walks Baekhyun home. 

Kyungsoo isn’t there the first time Chanyeol brings Baekhyun flowers, or at the wedding to make a toast, or the time they visit the pound together to pick out a dog. 

Kyungsoo isn’t there on the road trip they take to the beach the year after graduating (they agreed to listen to Kyungsoo’s choice of music, smooth jazz, as opposed to shitty pop or equally shitty dubstep.) Kyungsoo isn’t there when they first ride Terror Mountain 2. Kyungsoo isn’t there whenever they go to the usual club. 

Chanyeol doesn’t like to think about Kyungsoo anymore. He’s tried so hard to forget, so hard to put it out of his mind.

He tries so hard to erase Kyungsoo from the memories, because maybe, maybe if Kyungsoo hadn’t of been there the entire time, maybe Chanyeol can forget about the blood on the concrete, mixing with the rain like some disgusting, convoluted cocktail. 

But, Chanyeol can’t run from his past (you never can) and he knows. When the world gets very quiet, and he’s alone in his head, he knows: Kyungsoo was there. 

Kyungsoo was always there.

But, he’s not here anymore.

****

For the first time since the accident, Chanyeol feels perfectly happy. Lying together with Baekhyun with soft moonlight streaming in through half-closed blinds, Chanyeol is reminded of simpler times. Of perfect times when they were together and happy.

Chanyeol revels in the perfection of the moment, even going so far as to hold Baekhyun closer, to smell his hair and soak up as much Baekhyun as possible.

He’s almost positive Baekhyun is fast asleep when Baekhyun suddenly speaks.

“You brought me forget-me-nots,” he murmurs into Chanyeol’s chest, and at first the statement doesn’t really make sense to Chanyeol.

“What?” Chanyeol racks his brain trying to remember when he could have brought Baekhyun forget-me-nots, let alone flowers, since the accident. He comes up with nothing. “I don’t think I did.” 

Baekhyun raises his head to look at Chanyeol, and even in the dimly lit room, Chanyeol can tell his smile is not quite right.

“You did.” 

Chanyeol furrows his brow, thinking hard. Even before the accident, Chanyeol always brought Baekhyun only roses. It was his signature flower. 

So, when and why....?

“What? You don’t remember?” Baekhyun shifts so that he’s balanced on his elbows, staring right into Chanyeol’s eyes. “They were right there on the beside table. You don’t remember the day you didn’t bring me roses?” 

Chanyeol lurches backwards, thoroughly shocked. All sleepiness gone, he hits his head on the headboard trying to scramble backwards. “B-baekhyun, what are you talking about?” 

“You don’t remember, Chanyeol? The day you became a fucking murderer?” Baekhyun leans forward to whisper and Chanyeol feels his world turn upside down. “It’ll be so ironic if _you_ don’t remember the day you had my memories fucking _erased.”_

****

The accident. 

It occurred September 23rd at approximately 10:48PM.

Chanyeol had always known Baekhyun’s line of work was dangerous.

Sworn to secrecy from a young age, both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo were burdened with the knowledge that a method for memory erasure existed and was used by The Organization to maintain world peace.

Chanyeol never asked exactly how or why Baekhyun and Kyungsoo had been chosen, but he supposed it had something to do with them both being orphaned at a young age.

But, maintaining world peace wasn’t an easy job. And it definitely wasn’t a safe job. 

And they had argued; the three of them. 

Argued about safety, about love, and about trust.

The man had a gun, of course. He had chased Kyungsoo and Chanyeol into an alley, having tracked Kyungsoo down at the place where he and Chanyeol were getting dinner. It was supposed to be the trio’s weekly get-together; Kyungsoo was still a part of their trio long after Baekhyun and Chanyeol had married. How could he not be? 

The marksman had wanted to dispose of two top agents, Do Kyungsoo and Byun Baekhyun in one night, but had made a horrible mistake of assuming Chanyeol was Baekhyun. He had pursued the two from the restaurant with the utmost of dedication. Kyungsoo had known from the moment they stepped off the curb that they were being hunted. He had known from that moment what needed to be done to protect Baekhyun.

“He’s going to kill only one of us,” Kyungsoo whispered quickly to Chanyeol as they hunched over in a rickety, metal fire escape, hiding from the dedicated marksman. “That can’t be you.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chanyeol had shot back in a voice too loud for a whisper. Kyungsoo had punched him hard to silence him, not holding back at all. This was life or death.

“You absolutely cannot die, Chanyeol. I’ll cause a distraction and you run away.” 

“What the fuck?” Chanyeol had wheezed. “I’m not going to let you die—I’m not going to _kill you_ just so I can live!” 

“Baekhyun needs you.” 

“He needs you, too!” 

Kyungsoo had given him a sad smile, a look Chanyeol would never forget, even though Chanyeol would try so hard to erase it from his memory.

“You promised to protect him, Chanyeol. Please.... do it for me.” 

“What am I supposed to tell him....?” Chanyeol had asked softly, tears forming in his eyes. He’s not going to cry, he’s absolutely not going to cry here. 

“I’ve always had to be the mediator,” Kyungsoo had grinned, “This time, it’s between you two.” And with that, he had swung down from the fire escape, landing loudly on the metal trashcans below. Chanyeol had seen Baekhyun and Kyungsoo do stunts before. He knew they were both capable of moving stealthily. It came with the job.

Chanyeol knew Kyungsoo was throwing his life away for him.

Ghosts are real, Chanyeol knows that. Because the ghost of that night never leaves him.

Two men die that night. 

But, Chanyeol lives.

****

“You killed Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun spits out venomously. 

Chanyeol scrambles off the bed, trying to escape. 

This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. 

“You fucking killed my best friend, and then you had my fucking memories erased. Did you think I would let you get away with that?” Baekhyun moves off the bed and digs around in his side drawer, rummaging through the clutter, looking for something small and translucent. “Did you think you could just erase my memories and everything would be fine again?” 

Chanyeol knows he should run. He knows he should get the fuck out of there right now. But, he can’t. He’s frozen in place, completely petrified. They assured him at The Organization that Baekhyun would forget. The odds of Baekhyun remembering had been 100:1.

“H-how?” 

“It takes years of practice to learn how to properly erase memories,” Baekhyun spits. “Did you really think you could just pick one up and fucking shoot me with it?” 

“You remembered?” Chanyeol chokes out, his heartbeat hammering in his ears making it so fucking hard to think. “You remembered the whole time? 

Baekhyun barks out a sick and twisted version of his beautiful laugh. Chanyeol is trapped in a funhouse nightmare where nothing is as it’s supposed to be, and on the edges of his vision, Kyungsoo’s body, pumped full of lead and empty of blood, flashes. He thinks he’s going to be sick all over Baekhyun’s green carpet. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Baekhyun spits. He pulls something out of his bedside drawer that Chanyeol instantly recognizes. It’s shaped like a gun but it’s completely translucent with something purple shining in the barrel. Baekhyun grabs a vial of what Chanyeol can only assume are his own biomarkers and loads the gun.

Chanyeol can feel his blood run cold and his face heat up all once. He feels dizzy and sick and wants to get down on his knees and beg, but he can’t.

He can’t save Kyungsoo, he can’t save Baekhyun, he can’t do anything at all. 

“Let’s see how you like not remembering who the fuck you are.” 

“No,” he wants to whisper, but nothing comes out. 

“Don’t worry, Yeol, I’ll follow right after. It’ll be like we never met in the first place. Just like you wanted.”

“I didn’t want this!” Chanyeol tries to scream, but it’s drowned out by the sound of a gun being shot. The sound triggers the memory of the only other time Chanyeol heard it, and Baekhyun’s crying face swims into dizzying focus.

That’s what he thinks about as he loses consciousness.

Even after all of this, he thinks about Baekhyun.

****

Baekhyun breaks the moment he learns of Kyungsoo’s death. He holes himself up in their apartment for weeks. He stops eating, and stops going to work. The lab excuses his absence at first, but as the days go by, they become less forgiving. Chanyeol eats, breathes, and sleeps on pins and needles. The guilt swarms around them and suffocates them like a poisonous cloud. They can’t talk anymore; they can’t be around one another. 

But, they need each other so badly. They both reach out for one another only to miss each other’s grasping hands by seconds. 

They’re so alone, and as the days go by, they become more and more desperate. 

Chanyeol dreams of a peaceful world for just the two of them. A world where no one has died, where they aren’t guilty, or sad, or broken. He dreams of the impossible, he knows, but he can’t help but wonder late at night where Baekhyun hides his Reconsolidator. 

Baekhyun grows more and more anxious as the days go by. He picks up his phone to call Kyungsoo’s number, and lets it ring, and ring, and ring. Stupid phone companies. They still haven’t disconnected it, or at least given it to someone new. Chanyeol catches him in the act and takes his phone from him, hitting the ‘end call’ button with a little more force than necessary. This is the fourth time this week Baekhyun has tried to call Kyungsoo’s number, and Chanyeol can’t take it anymore. 

“Baekhyun, you need to stop!” Chanyeol holds Baekhyun’s phone just out of his reach. Baekhyun merely stares at it with glassy eyes. 

“Chanyeol, why don’t you want me to call Kyungsoo?” 

“Because Kyungsoo isn’t—” Chanyeol swallows hard, but his voice still breaks on the truth, “Kyungsoo isn’t here anymore.” 

“But, if I don’t keep calling, I’ll forget.” Tears well up in Baekhyun’s eyes, “I need to hear his voice, Chanyeol. If I don’t, I’ll forget. Please, let me listen to his voicemail again. Please.” He reaches for his phone, but Chanyeol moves it away too fast, even going so far as to place a hand on Baekhyun’s chest.

“No! Baekhyun you can’t! You need to move on!” Chanyeol’s throat feels dry and his sinuses ache as he tries desperately to hold it together. How can he forget—how can _they_ forget if Baekhyun refuses to move on? 

Baekhyun’s arms go limp at his sides and his head drops. “Why do you want me to forget so badly, Yeol?” 

Chanyeol gapes at him, caught off guard. “What?” 

“Why do you want me to forget Kyungsoo so badly? Why do you walk around this apartment day and night like you have something to hide?” 

Baekhyun’s voice is rising and the ensuing hysteria is almost too much for Chanyeol. He feels trapped in his own skin and he wants desperately to claw his way out. The room is too small, the air is too stuffy, and he finds it so hard to breathe suddenly. 

“I’ve known you for a long time, Yeol. And I know when you’re acting fucking 

Chanyeol backs up against the wall. Baekhyun is yelling now. “What are you talking about?” his voice comes out hoarse. 

“Why are you so guilty, Chanyeol? What are you hiding from me?” 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

Baekhyun looks Chanyeol dead in the eye, “What really happened to Kyungsoo?” 

That night is the beginning of the end, Chanyeol realizes sometime later on. 

The suspicions don’t dissipate and neither does the guilt. Every day, Baekhyun slips further and further away from Chanyeol and every day, Chanyeol becomes more and more desperate to bring Baekhyun back to him.

That brings us to the second accident.

This isn’t the accident Joonmyun was hired to remedy, and in reality, it wasn’t really an accident at all. It was premeditated by Chanyeol in every way. He researched the method, he prepared the vial, he found the Reconsolidator.

It occurs November 27th at approximately 11:23PM in their bedroom. Chanyeol sets his watch timer so he won’t forget.

“Please,” Baekhyun begs, “Let me go.” He thrashes against Chanyeol’s arms. “Where is Kyungsoo?” 

Baekhyun knows, but he doesn’t want to know. 

Baekhyun knows Kyungsoo is gone and won’t come back. 

“You killed him,” he sobs into Chanyeol’s shirt. It smells like fresh laundry detergent and happier days Baekhyun has already forsaken. “You killed him, you killed him.” He sobs harder, to the point that Chanyeol can barely understand him, “You killed him....we killed him. I want to die.” 

“No, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says thickly, tears threatening to spill over, “No, you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“Let me die,” Baekhyun sobs, “I don’t want to live anymore!” 

Chanyeol’s fingers close around the translucent gun-like object, the violet crystal inside pulsing. The feeling of it beating against his palm is almost maddening. Chanyeol is so desperate and Baekhyun so mad with grief, they’re both so broken, and this gun could be the glue. 

“Baekhyun, why don’t you forget?” 

“Forget that you killed him?” Baekhyun looks up at Chanyeol and his expression is mad. Chanyeol can’t help but be frightened by the sight, “Forget that I killed him? Forget that we’re fucking monsters?” 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol coos. His hands shake as he holds the Reconsolidator to Baekhyun’s side, Baekhyun too frenzied to even notice. Chanyeol wonders if Baekhyun can even see the truth anymore, can even understand what’s happening. “It’s okay.” 

“I’m going to kill myself!” Baekhyun nearly screams, “I’m going to kill you!” 

Chanyeol winces and aims.

It’s then that Baekhyun belatedly notices the Reconsolidator. His face falls, an expression of pure horror overtaking his bloodshot eyes and mouth hanging agape. “How could you, Yeol?” 

“I love you, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers. 

“Chanyeol, I won’t ever forgive you!” 

Chanyeol pulls the trigger.

The last thing Baekhyun sees and knows is Chanyeol’s crying face. It swims into dizzying focus as he loses consciousness and he holds onto it for dear life.

Even after all of this, Baekhyun thinks of Chanyeol.

****

“Baek, I have a question.” 

They’re both rifling through their closet, looking for something appropriate to wear to their weekly dinner with Kyungsoo, and at this rate they’re going to be late. But, it’s not like the two of them to move in complete silence—not with how much both of them talk, and so Chanyeol speaks to fill the silence.

“That shirt looks awful with those pants,” Baekhyun answers without really looking up from the sock drawer he’s currently digging through. 

Chanyeol slaps him playfully, but it still hurts enough for Baekhyun to mutter ‘ow’ under his breath. “Not about my fashion, about The Organization.” 

Baekhyun sobers up, standing up slowly, and turning to face Chanyeol. “I’m listening.” 

“Well, what if there was this accident and, uh...” 

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at Chanyeol. “The Organization doesn’t really have accidents.” 

“No, I know, but what if something happened and...” Chanyeol fidgets with the hem of his shirt. It sounds stupid aloud, but it’s something that’s been bothering him. And what good is marriage if he can’t share his worries and troubles with his better half? 

“And what?” 

“And we like, forgot each other....” Chanyeol realizes how stupid it sounds aloud and immediately, he wants to take it back. 

Baekhyun’s airy laughter only serves to reconfirm Chanyeol’s suspicions that the whole scenario is completely preposterous.

“We’re not going to ever forget one another,” Baekhyun replies simply. “How could I ever forgive you, you giraffe?” 

“That was a good nickname Kyungsoo came up with...” Chanyeol mutters under his breath. 

“What about me? Will you ever forget me?” 

Chanyeol shakes his head and replies vehemently, “No, of course not!” 

“Exactly!” Baekhyun says with a wide smile, “Soulmates can’t just forget each other easily.” 

“Even if they were shot by the Reconsolidator?” 

Baekhyun’s face falls somewhat. “Have you been worrying about this?” 

“Your Organization can be pretty scary. That’s all...” 

“Well, we’ve never used the Reconsolidator for something like that, so I’m not sure if you can use it to erase the person you love. But...” Baekhyun takes Chanyeol’s large hands in his own and kisses them lightly, “If it ever happens, Yeol, if I ever forget you, I’ll always come back to you.” 

“I’ll always come back to you, too,” Chanyeol replies, “No matter what.” 

“Good,” Baekhyun grins before pecking Chanyeol on the forehead and letting his hands go, “Now that we’ve gotten that unlikely scenario all sorted out, we really need to hurry. Kyungsoo will kill us if we’re late. Or worse, make us foot the bill.” 

“That’s not fair!” Chanyeol exclaims, running around the room to collect the rest of his outfit, “We still have student loans to pay! Just because he was a genius in college and got a full ride doesn’t mean we all have money to spare!” 

“I know, he’s a cruel one,” Baekhyun agrees, finally finding a matching pair of socks, “But, that’s our best friend: Do Kyungsoo.” 

At that moment, the phone rings, and Baekhyun hurries to answer it. “It’s probably Kyungsoo wondering where we are,” Baekhyun says as he hits the ‘answer’ button on his phone.

But, it’s not Kyungsoo. It’s Baekhyun’s lab and they need him to come in to run some samples. Baekhyun hangs the phone up with a groan, flopping over on the bed in defeat. 

“I can’t go to dinner, Yeol,” he whines. Chanyeol shoots up from where he’s hunched over, looking for pants in one of their drawers, nearly falling backwards onto his ass. 

“What?” 

“That was the lab. They need me to come in right away.” 

“What should I do?” Chanyeol asks, two mismatched articles of clothing in his hands. 

“You go have dinner with Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says before rolling off the bed in defeat and moving to get his lab coat and notebooks. “I’ll try to meet you afterwards.” 

Chanyeol stares after Baekhyun’s retreating figure, “Not that I don’t love Kyungsoo like a short-tempered, violent, stern brother, but are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“Of course it is!” Baekhyun’s melodious voice comes from down the hallway. “When was the last time you two spent some quality time together without me?” 

Chanyeol admits silently that it’s been a while as he slowly puts both articles of clothing down on the bed.

“Oh, but can you do me a favor?” Baekhyun’s head pops back into the room, with a smile wider then the sea, “I told Kyungsoo I’d bring him a bouquet of his favorite flowers to make up for missing his concert last month. I already put the order in with the florist on Seventh.” 

Chanyeol nods somewhat glumly, still having not recovered from the prospect of dinner with the irreplaceable third member of their trio, and Baekhyun laughs. “Cheer up, Yeol. It’ll be fine. After all, what could go wrong?”

****

Chanyeol is running late for work.

After working for a sous-chef for a good three-fourths of a year, he’s happy to finally be moving up. Maybe being a chef isn’t what he always wanted, but he can’t quite remember why he wanted to work in marketing these days anyway, so he’s overjoyed when the head chef hands him his own set of measuring spoons and tells him to get to work on table five’s order.

But, that was last week, and this is now, and Chanyeol is definitely going to lose his fancy promotion if he doesn’t get to work ASAP.

As he waits for the bus, he curses his luck when he sees lighting in the distance, followed not more than three seconds later by a clap of thunder. In his hurry to leave the house that morning, he’d neglected to grab his umbrella, so he stands there, waiting and dreading the inevitable.

Oddly enough, however, it doesn’t start to rain, at least not right away. The storm clouds instead merely continue to swirl overhead, menacingly flashing a streak of lighting once in a while, and the thunder rumbles on, reminding him vaguely of deep, deep laughter. 

He scoffs at the sky. What is thunder and lightning without the rain? Could this even be considered a storm?

“Uh, not to be rude, but you look kind of awful brooding at the sky like that.”

The moment Chanyeol glances over his shoulder to see a short brunet staring at him, a raindrop hits him square in the eye. He flails backwards, arms waving madly as he curses loudly and the brunet begins to laugh. His laughter is accompanied by an immediate downpour, and even though he’s now soaking, and partially blind, Chanyeol has to admit: this is a storm.

When Chanyeol finally regains his sight, he realizes the brunet is staring at him from under an umbrella, a lab book under his arm, and look of true concern on his face. 

“Forgot my umbrella and I’m late for work,” Chanyeol groans and in response—he honestly can’t believe it—the man laughs again. 

“Yeah, is that so?” Chanyeol shivers, there’s something awfully familiar about that crinkly rectangle-shaped smile. “Here, you can share mine.” The man nudges Chanyeol aside so that they both fit under his tiny umbrella. “You’ll probably still be late, but at least you won’t be, um,” he surveys Chanyeol’s already nearly soaking figure, _“as wet.”_

Chanyeol grins, feeling happy for the first time all morning. “Thanks,” he beams. 

“You’re smiling,” the brunet says with a wide smile. Under the umbrella everything feels magnetic and hot, two warm bodies pressed together in stark contrast to the cool rain around them.

“Actually, my name is Park Chanyeol,” Chanyeol grins. And they spend a long time looking into each other’s eyes.

“Byun Baekhyun,” Baekhyun replies, before bursting out laughing.

“What? What is it?” 

“Sorry, this is going to sound crazy, but I just got the weirdest sense of déjà vu. I feel like...I’ve met you somewhere before.” 

“Yeah? Your dreams, maybe?” 

Baekhyun laughs again and so does Chanyeol and weirdly, the bus comes and goes, but neither gets on. Instead they head to a café nearby that serves crepes and talk about, well, everything. 

(“How do you feel about Skrillex?” 

“Wow, I could not think of shittier music. Roller coasters?” 

“I love them” 

Baekhyun gags. 

“Okay, what about dancing? Please don’t tell me you enjoy it....” 

“Oh, absolutely!” 

This time Chanyeol gags.

“Um, we must have something in common. Oh, I know. Cleaning?” 

“I abhor it.” 

“Me, too!” 

“But, I love dogs.” 

“Especially, beagles...” 

“Byun Baekhyun, I feel like this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 

“I couldn’t agree more, Park Chanyeol.”) 

They say if two souls are in love, they’ll be able to find one another again no matter what. 

And true love is when both Baekhyun and Chanyeol smile at one another without knowing that it's their third time meeting for the first time. 

They meet, they learn, they fall in love again. They hurt, they cry, they make up. 

Chanyeol already knows without the rain, there is no storm.

He learns again that without Baekhyun, there is no him.

****

Chanyeol no longer asks why this has happened to him. There are no more questions and no more demands because there is no conflict to remember. He doesn’t remember meeting Baekhyun in college or meeting him after the accident. He doesn’t remember the pain or mistakes, and neither does Baekhyun. 

But Chanyeol does remember that the frozen moon, Europa, takes 416,878 miles to orbit the barren deserts of Jupiter. 

And he’s learned a thing or two. He knows now that one side of Europa is always cloaked in darkness, while the other side always has the privilege of facing its interstellar lover. It’s bound by gravity and laws of nature, supremely loyal to destined Jupiter.

Chanyeol knows now that this is just the way these things are.

And maybe, just maybe some things don’t have to come back. Because, maybe they were never lost.

Maybe in this world, no one leaves or is left behind. 

Maybe in this world, everything turns out all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Mods' Notes: During the duration of BAE2016, we're kindly asking you to leave your reviews on [Livejournal](http://baeconandeggs.livejournal.com/43535.html). Thank you for reading!♥


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